


Pacing the Heart

by Kayasurin



Series: The End is the Beginning of the End [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, And interested, And obvious, And persistant, Blatant teenager is blatant, Chess games aren't played that way, Developing Relationships, Jack did not spend 300 years alone, Jack is feeling somewhat harassed now, M/M, Minor Character Death, Personal history revealed, Pre-Slash, Slow Build, Slow healing injuries abound, The bobcat is family, Time travel messes everything up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 48,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's back from the past, but now it's time to deal with the fallout. On the one hand, Jack Frost and the Easter Bunny are reluctant allies that work together for the sake of the children, no more and no less. On the other, Jack was Tarnaske, Aster's best friend from childhood.</p><p>It's tricky. Good thing they're spirits and have the time to figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arc 1: Getting to Know You (1)

"I mean, who does he think he is?" Jack moved his rook to threaten his enemy's bishop. "You can't just drag someone around like a horse to water and expect him to drink."

Bob twitched one stub of an ear, and batted at one of his pawns. It rolled off the edge of the board.

"That," Jack told the bobcat, "isn't a legal move."

Bob just blinked at him. Or winked, really; the bobcat was missing an eye and both ears, from some presumably horrific accident that might or might not have involved a car.

Jack's recovery had taken place in Yellowstone National Park, in one of Summerscales' little caves. He'd had company the entire time, either Bob, Charlie the cougar, or Daryl the wolf, stopping by. It hadn't been the most comfortable few weeks, but his pets had helped. They were something warm to hug at night, someone to talk to, and great sounding boards.

Now that he was better... Jack sighed, and put the pawn back into position. "Try again."

Bob yawned, and licked a paw.

"That's... fine. You're moving here." Jack went through the next few moves- he captured Bob's bishop, lost his rook, and moved his queen into position to threaten Bob's king- on his own. "You're losing."

The bobcat just winked at him again, before getting up and walking around the board to curl up in Jack's lap. The young man smiled, and stroked along Bob's spine.

"You remind me of a kid I was taking care of," he told the cat. "Aster. Cute little guy. Well, you wouldn't think cute, probably, you'd be thinking dinner, because rabbit, but still. About your size. Biggest green eyes like you wouldn't believe, and he'd been hurt." He sighed, and looked up at the roof of the cave. It was suspiciously smooth, probably because Summerscales had made it, instead of finding it. She did that sometimes.

"Bunny left him behind." Why? Surely- Bunny had been there, in disguise, hadn't he seen how upset Aster had been? How alone and ostracised? Why would he leave a kid in that situation? Heck, they were Guardians of Childhood- nowhere in the oath had Jack heard 'and if we find a non-human child in horrible circumstances, we will ignore them and leave them to their suffering'.

Jack unclenched his fist, and went back to petting Bob. "He made me so angry," he admitted. "Bunny did. I- honestly, if he'd saved Aster first, instead of me..." He shook his head. "That kid _needed_ me, Bob."

Bob got up and headed for the mouth of the cave, once more avoiding the game board. Jack made a face at the cat's back, and returned to the game. He'd discovered chess a ways back, something like two hundred years ago, and he was pretty sure half the moves _he_ made weren't legal, either. He couldn't remember what the horses were supposed to do, for one thing, so they did anything and everything. And there was no reason for the king to be the weakest piece in the game. All _his_ kings got to play with _battleaxes_.

The board and the game pieces were made out of ice, mostly clear for the 'white' piece and clouded over for the 'black'. One time, Jack had ended up playing out a social revolution where the pawns revolted; joined together, fought a war on both fronts, and the kings and queens had been beheaded. It'd been fun.

It just wasn't very diverting at the moment.

The problem was, he'd gotten used to the Guardians' company. And as angry as he was with Bunny, well, he did want to check up on Tooth, and North, and Sandy. They'd looked... different, when he'd last seen them, but he'd also been ready to fall over from blood loss and pain killers. Not exactly the best state to be in to make note of things. Like appearances, or conversation, or where the floor was.

"I'll see Tooth," he decided. Bunny wasn't very fond of the Tooth Palace, for some reason. Possibly the heat. Which, you know, Jack completely understood, only the rabbit was, well, a rabbit and covered in fur and couldn't exactly sweat. While Jack- sure, his powers were reduced- but his cold hands and feet warmed up! What wasn't there to like about that?

He headed out of the cave, leaning on his staff a little bit more than he would have liked. It wasn't so bad, though. Just, well, he couldn't wait until he'd reached the palace and could get fussed over by all the mini-fairies.

"Wind! To the Tooth Fairy's Palace!"

The ride was- uncomfortable. Uncomfortable was a _good_ word. When he had a set destination in mind, if it wasn't close by, the wind typically chucked him at the nearest jet stream and called it a day. The jet stream, needless to say, wasn't the gentlest of air currents. It was fast, and turbulent, and most days it compared favorably with a really good rollercoaster.

Most days Jack wasn't still healing from nearly being eviscerated.

North America flashed by beneath him, and then it was over the Pacific and hel- _lo_ Mama-jet stream! Jack clenched his teeth and pressed one hand against his chest. Ow. Very, very ow.

The Tooth Palace was a very nice sight, really, especially since it meant the flying thing? Could _stop_.

As if to apologize for the rough trip, the wind set him down gently at the top of the Palace, near Tooth's control center. Jack planted his staff and leaned on it. Breathing hurt, but he was also out of breath, and if he didn't start breathing there'd be an issue.

"Jack!"

Ooh, green feathers, very pretty. "Hey- Tooth. How're- you doing?" Gasping for breath was not the best impression, but at least he hadn't fallen over yet.

"You look _awful_." Tooth caught his shoulders. "Come on, let's get you inside where it's cooler. Where have you been, we've all been so worried!"

"Oh, you know. Around." Jack made a face when Tooth tried to pick him up. "C'mon, leave me some dignity here, yeah? Arm, shoulder, that'll be good enough."

"Alright." Tooth _was_ different. She'd gotten taller, by about an inch. Her body shape had changed a bit, to be more, well, feminine. That change went well with the new wings, which were huge, feathered things, like a bird of prey's. They were very, very impressive.

"I like your wings," he said.

"Me too. Hopefully the children won't go back to thinking I'm all sweetness and light."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Huh?"

"Oh..." Tooth bit her lower lip, and helped him sit down on a chaise lounge. "Well, a few centuries back, _this_ is how I looked." She lifted her wings a touch; any higher and she would've bumped them against the ceiling. "Only as the children's belief in me changed, so did my appearance."

Ack. "Does that happen to everyone?"

"It varies." Tooth sat down on a foot stool. "Jack, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He rubbed his chest, and shrugged. "Well, no. I'm angry!"

Tooth blinked at him. "Ah, about?"

"Bunny just..." Jack waved one hand, as if that could help him find the right words. "Look, there was this kid. Aster. I was taking care of him! He- _they_ \- I was _protecting_ him, and Bunny just left him there!"

Jack tapped his staff against the flagstones several times. Frost bloomed, and promptly melted, where his staff hit. "The kid was one of his kind. You'd think that alone would mean Bunny would at least _care_. A little."

"Oh, Jack." Tooth reached forward and touched his wrist. "Jack, Bunny cared, but... You really need to talk to him about this."

"I don't want to talk to him ever again!"

She looked away. "You should, though. I- I only know a little, but Bunny said you'd been sent to his home planet."

Bunny was an alien? Well, that made sense. "There were a lot of rabbit people," he admitted.

"Pooka. Bunny's a Pooka."

"Like the Irish fairies?"

"N-no. I don't think so?" She twitched her wings several times. "But the Pooka- he told me he was the last. That they'd died out ages ago."

Jack blinked at that. "They what?" But... Then Aster... He rested his forehead against his staff. "I don't understand."

"When you were hit by all those snow globes breaking at once, you were sent away in time and place." Tooth gestured at herself. "Those of us nearby all lost a few centuries. North's a young man, I have my old appearance back- the only people unchanged were Bunny and Sandy, and they're... Old."

Considering Tooth was something like a thousand years old, her calling someone old must mean they were actually ancient.

"And you think I should speak with him."

"I think he knows what happened to... to Aster."

Jack nodded, and started to lever himself up. His wound hurt, all of a sudden going from a dull throb to feeling like he was being gutted all over again. He fell back against the lounge, both hands fisting in the front of his sweater with the pain.

It took several minutes for the ache to subside enough for him to catch a full breath. Someone was humming, fingers barely touching his temples. The touch was odd enough, distracting enough, that the pain seemed to back off while he concentrated on the fingers.

"Better?" Tooth asked, not much louder than her humming had been.

"Y-yeah. Sorry about that."

She brushed his hair back from his forehead, and gestured at the lounge. "Why don't you rest here for a bit? Bunny can wait."

Maybe Bunny could, but Jack didn't want to. "I can-"

"You almost fell over." Tooth half-spread her wings. "You can just stay here and rest until you're feeling better and I'm sure you're not going to pass out over the ocean!"

"Well, when you put it that way..." He was over the drowning thing. He was! It wasn't like it had even lasted! He needed to breathe; he had a heartbeat- which was currently racing- he needed to eat and sleep and all other sorts of things. Obviously when the Moon had picked him it had done the mystical version of CPR, which had worked.

"I do." Tooth nudged at his shoulder. "Now, why don't you lie down? I'm sure you'll feel much more comfortable."

She was right; once he was lying down he did feel better. The ache in his chest eased up to the point where he could breathe properly again. Tooth helped him tuck his staff between him and the back of the lounge, draped a blanket over the lower half of his body, and promised food and drink would be brought, she just had to deal with the result of a few childish fist fights.

Jack watched her go, and then relaxed as best he could. It was a bit weird; the chaise lounge was very... soft. Jack was used to sleeping up trees and on the ground. Sometimes sand if he was at a beach. Not so much goose-down stuffed pillows. They didn't exactly grow on trees.

He was jolted out of a half drowsing state when Tooth returned. She had a small platter, laden with a tea pot and two cups, and a selection of fruit slices and cheese. Some kind of crumbly stuff, the kind that Jack usually saw being put on salads.

Well, when he paid attention to restaurants and stuff, which normally, he didn't. People ate outside during the warmer months, and that was typically the time he was getting run out by all the summer sprites. They weren't very intelligent, about even with a goose or a turkey, but they could pack enough of a wallop to hurt. The summer _spirits_ tended to be much more reasonable, but they were also pretty _boring_. There wasn't a single summer spirit that had been born after the industrial revolution, so they were all 'summer is a time for work, summer vacation exists only so the children can help with the crops and harvest'.

Boring.

"I've always wanted to try this stuff," Jack said, and helped himself to a pinch of cheese. It crumbled between his fingertips, but he managed to catch most of it in his palm.

"Next time, put it on a cracker."

"Sorry." Jack licked the last crumb off his palm, and hummed. "Not bad. I think I prefer American cheddar, but I don't think I've made a good enough trial of this stuff to be sure. Pass me a cracker?"

Tooth grinned, and actually set up one of those lap-table things, used by the rich people back in the Victorian era to eat their breakfast in bed. She set a cup of tea, a small plate of fruit, crackers, and cheese in front of him, and gestured to it all. "I think that's easier, don't you?"

When Jack later fell asleep, nearly mid-bite, Tooth cleared the debris of the meal away. She brushed Jack's hair off his forehead, sighed at his teeth- you would never know he hadn't brushed in _centuries_ \- and headed out to warn her tiny helpers to leave him alone and let him sleep.

Once the door had closed behind her, Jack opened his eyes, climbed out the window, and called for the wind to take him to Australia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome to the second story in the series " The End is the Beginning is the End" AKA EBE. (Thank you Corgi for the short-form. MUCH faster to type out, yay!)
> 
> Again, I'm going to try writing a chapter of my original novel between chapters of Pacing the Heart, as mentioned in the epilogue of Walking the Circle. Feel free to nag me if it's been more than three, four days between updates. If it gets to a week, you have my permission to gather a mob armed with torches and pitchforks. I live in the Evil Tower in Minecraft. Made it myself, still needs work, the floors... Well, the less said about them the better.


	2. Arc 1: Getting to Know You (2)

It was raining. There weren't any grand portents in the weather; if it wasn't the season for rains in South Australia, well, it wasn't unusual this time of year either. The rain came down in torrents, so much so that it could have been drier to stand beneath a waterfall. You'd have risked drowning less, at the very least.

Aster stared out the cave mouth, not exactly morose, but not too far from that feeling either.

He'd managed to shake off his depression after a few days. It wasn't that Jack had rejected him, it was only that... Well. They hadn't had the best relationship before Jack's trip to the past. Aster shouldn't have expected the frost spirit to give him hugs and cuddles. For that matter, he wasn't at all certain he could _accept_ hugs and cuddles at this point! He was old and set in his ways, and for too long he'd gone without such things.

Kindness, gentle touches... Not for anything would he tell his friends this, but for most of his life, he'd lacked those things. North had grown up wild, and later with bandits, but the bandits had been a good enough family. And Tooth, her parents had showered her with love. Sandy was a former wishing star, and if the other stars had been distant, they'd also all communicated like mad things, jabbering on in each other's mind as only the stars could.

He shook his head, and watched the rain fall.

Another hunt, another failure. They were all looking for Jack. With his injury- it could be months, or even years, before he was strong enough to be on his own again.

The wind blew in through the mouth of the cave, splattering Aster's front with raindrops. He wrinkled his nose. It was _cold_ , or as cold as it ever got in this part of the world. He would have thought it was a winter storm out there, instead of-

Wait. Cold, and a storm? He huffed, and grabbed his rain cloak.

He'd been running around in the mountains since before they'd existed. Aster followed the chill breeze, jumping from one near-vertical patch to the next. It hadn't been too long before something cold and slushy hit between his shoulders. If he hadn't had his cloak, he might have ended up with chips of ice in his fur.

"Please tell me, lie if you have to, you weren't trying to follow the wind."

Aster turned around, and swallowed down his response. Jack looked horrible, and it wasn't all due to looking like a mostly-drowned rat.

"You look horrible," he said. Jack was perched up on a narrow ledge, barely a foot wide, and looked ready to fall off at any second. Aster jumped up and landed a meter away, within reach if Jack pitched over, not so close as to crowd him.

"I'm fine. Tooth suggested I talk to you." Jack clenched his jaw.

Yeah, Aster supposed she would have. He also supposed that she didn't know Jack had taken off to talk with him _right now_. "Not out here," he said, and tugged at the hood of his rain cloak. It was a good one, both waxed and oiled, with triple stitching on all the joins, but water could still get in.

And he hated getting wet.

"Then," Jack started.

"Come on," Aster said. "Simpler just going this way to my burrow."

"No tunnel?"

Aster shook his head, and started back towards the entrance to his burrow. He moved slow, pretending the water-slick rocks were giving him more trouble than they were. Jack followed behind him, and as slow as Aster was being, Jack was slower. Every short flight he made was punctuated with gasps, and occasionally he hunched over, one hand pressed against his chest.

Thankfully he hadn't been too far from the cave when he'd found Jack. Or when Jack had found him, whichever.

The cave looked normal, until you went to the very back. There was a bit of a narrow doorway, and once you'd squeezed through, you were right near Aster's burrow and in the Warren.

"Huh," Jack said. He leaned against the wall, eyes half closed, mouth open while he breathed deeply. He looked like he wanted to pant, but wasn't about to reveal that much weakness. "I'll have to remember this."

"Or you could thump the ground," Aster suggested. "Three thumps close together and I'll open a rabbit hole for you."

Jack gave him a look, at once both amused and doubtful. "Sure, Bunny."

Aster pulled off his rain cloak, and folded it over one arm. "C'mon, Frostbite. Let's get you dried off."

He hung his cloak up in the entry way, and then pulled a towel out for himself, and a second out for Jack. "Here," he said, and tossed it at the frost spirit.

The towel fell on Jack's head, draped over his face, and he pulled it off with a huff. "Thanks."

Jack didn't rub at his hair vigorously, like Aster did to his own fur. Instead, he reached up and, hand wrapped in a towel, grabbed handfuls of hair and squeezed. It was better than letting himself drip-dry, but not by much.

"Here," Aster said, and took the towel back. He scrubbed at Jack's hair with it. The end result frosted over into spikes, but Jack's hair was dry and it had only taken a minute or so. "Better?"

"Don't think you could do that to my sweater." Jack plucked at the front of his clothing, and half-laughed.

"C'mon into the kitchen then."

Jack was willing to take off his hooded sweater, though he needed help a bit doing so. Aster draped it in front of the stove, then puttered around lighting the fire and putting a kettle of water on to boil. Tea, and maybe some biscuits, to warm them up. Not that Jack needed to get warmed up, he supposed, but he could probably stand to eat something.

The puttering kept him from turning around and looking at Jack, slumped over at the table, wearing nothing but soaked leather pants and a wet, white shirt. The shirt had been made out of silk. With the water, it was now all but transparent.

The shirt clung to Jack's skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Not the jagged scar, dark purple and all too visible through the shirt, not the visible ribs, and not the line of sleek muscle in the shoulders, back, and arms.

Aster was reminded, suddenly and embarrassingly, that his first crush had been on a memory of Tarnaske. He'd spent plenty of nights in his tiny little cell of a room biting down on his hand while he jerked himself off, remembering... Well, remembering things that had been innocent as a kit, and weren't so innocent to a young- or old- buck.

And Tarnaske was Jack. He'd thought about _Jack_ , those nights...

Oh boy.

"Do you want tea?" he asked, his voice, thankfully, steady. He didn't think any hint of what he'd just remembered showed on his face, but he kept himself turned away from Jack just to be sure.

"Sure. Is there honey?"

Honey? Everyone else he'd ever drank tea with wanted sugar- or in Tooth's case, lemon. "There's plenty of that." He set a jar of wild bees honey on the table, careful not to look at Jack's shoulders. The odd little _want_ that'd just hit him would fade, he knew. It had before. It'd been a few thousand years since he'd last thought of Tarnaske that way, and this was Jack. A pretty boy, sure, but Aster had seen prettier, of either gender.

Besides, he'd grown up among the Rangers. Aster had been alone in refusing to shape shift his appearance to something more pleasing to the eye. He'd clung to his half-breed appearance, refusing to give up either his father's fur color or his mother's eye color.

He also had been alone in not trying out the 'joys' of the other gender. He'd proven he could make himself into a doe, but it hadn't been anything he'd wanted to stay as. He'd been born a buck. He would be fertile only as a buck. And he hadn't been all that interested in sex, either, though he'd been chased enough that he could have spent every night with someone new and not repeated with anyone for a year.

The water started to boil, and he forced the thoughts out of his head, made the tea.

He set a full mug in front of Jack, who immediately spooned in three large dollops of honey. Aster only added a single spoonful of honey to his. He cradled his mug in his hands, letting it warm his fingers and cool down at the same time.

"Do you want me to chill that?" Jack pointed at Aster's mug. He must have already cooled his own; the tea was liquid, but no longer steaming.

"It's fine. I don't mind waiting."

Jack shrugged- _shoulders_. Aster dragged his gaze away from them- and took a gulp of tea. "So. Like I said. Tooth suggested I talk to you."

"About?" Aster stared into his mug.

"Aster."

He looked up, and then blinked as he realized Jack hadn't meant him, he'd meant his younger self. "Oh. It's a bit of a story..."

"I don't have anywhere else to be, right now."

"Not going to spread snowballs and snow days?" Jack glared. "Right." Aster sipped at his tea. "Right. Where should I start?"

"Where the _heck_ was I?"

That was as good a place as any. "Gallifrey. My home planet."

Jack frowned. "You're an alien." It didn't sound like a question, but- it didn't sound like Jack was repeating something he'd heard before, either.

"I suppose you could put it that way, yes." Technically, all life on earth was Aster's fault. He didn't know if that made him more or less of an alien. "I'm a Pooka."

"Sounds like what the Irish call their elves." Jack raised one eyebrow.

"I came first. And I hope you never call one of the fae an 'elf' to their face, Jack, because I don't know of anything that'll make them froth at the mouth faster."

Jack grinned, eyes sparkling. "Oh, I know. But I'm faster than they are."

"Usually." Aster jerked his chin at Jack's chest, and the nasty scar. "Might want to wait a ways before harassing the fae some."

"Maybe." Jack sipped at his tea. "So, I was sent to Gallifrey. Tooth said it was... gone."

"It is." It hurt all over again. He'd been to Gallifrey; he'd spoken Valley tongue and both Mountain languages. He'd been _home_ , and all the old memories felt fresh and new.

"So Aster...?" Jack looked out the kitchen window, lips pressed tight together. "He's gone too?"

Oh. Aster blinked, hard. Jack didn't know. He knew that, but, well. Evidence. "That's... complicated."

"Complicated?"

Story time. "Aster never knew you were alive, after," he said. Easier, for the moment, to refer to himself in the third person. "He was sent immediately to Ranger training- the equivalent today would be an army recruit. Very specialized, were Rangers. Scouts, skirmishers, saboteurs..."

"Black ops?"

Aster shook his head. "Not exactly. Pooka... Our culture considered war a game. The winter wars- well, I could talk about it for days, but to boil it down soldiers rarely died in our wars. You know fencing, in Victorian times? How it was all ritualized? The fighting was like that. Accidents happened, sure, but that's all they were. Rangers scouted out the best battlefields," which tended to be farmers' fields, "got in close to overhear strategies, did bodyguard duty for the generals. The wars were how the nobles determined rank and territory, and while the battlefield was ritualized, there'd be those that preferred assassination to a fair fight."

Not that the winter wars had ever been much of a real fight, as he'd found out when he'd gotten older.

"Aster did alright in training. Rangers learnt specialized magic, including shape shifting."

"Like you did," Jack said. "I remember that, sort of. You were blond?"

Aster quirked an eyebrow, and nodded. "Aster was a young buck when the rest of the universe came knocking. The fearlings, mostly, though fearlings and dream pirates went hand and hand. Have to admit, the nobles were quite upset to find out the Tuatha Dé Danann thought our kind barbaric."

"Tuatha- the fae?" Jack gestured with his mug, and good thing it was almost empty. Otherwise tea would have gone everywhere. "Like, the guys Underhill?"

"Those are the survivors, though they've interbred with humans some. Doubt they remember their history, either."

Jack nodded. "Okay. So... Underhill elves came from wherever Gallifrey was."

"Same universe, yeah. The Pooka were shoved, will they, nil they, into the universal culture. The Tuatha weren't the only ones, but they had spread the most. I'm sure you've seen, they look very human."

"Yeah, but they really don't act it." Jack shuddered.

"Well, back then, they acted the same, bred like humans, and had a similar lifespan." He wasn't too sure what had changed things- these days the Tuatha had maybe a single child a century, and lived for something like a thousand years. "So they had large numbers, and spread quite a ways from their home planet. I'm not sure any of them remembered which one it was! But something about them made them easy prey for fearlings. They were different, then, the pure stock. They didn't infect anyone, and they were smarter, too."

Jack set his mug back down on the table. "What's a fearling?"

"Eh? Oh. Fearlings are... You know Pitch's nightmares? Like that, only a hundred times worse, and not made out of corrupted dream sand. They were people once, the fearlings. Tuatha, humans... That's what the current crop's made out of. Who knows where the original ones came from."

Jack nodded. "Okay. So, the fearlings came to Gallifrey?"

"Aster had just graduated a full Ranger. If the Tuatha hadn't chased the fearlings, I think the Pooka would've been killed off right then. We'd never fought like that before, without the rules and niceties that had made up our winter wars before."

"Like Ivy league chess masters meeting old time Norse Vikings," Jack suggested.

"Well, it was a mite bit more even than that, but it took the older soldiers a bit longer to clue in that yes, they had to fight to _kill_. Most of them thought that the fearlings would fight by the rules, and didn't survive to learn that they wouldn't."

Jack was intelligent; it didn't take more than a minute before he made a face and gestured for Aster to continue.

"So, it was called the Fearling War, at least on Gallifrey. They were beaten back, then the Pooka joined the- we'll call it the galactic alliance, I can't be bothered to remember the whole title. Tuatha- if they can say it with one word, they'll say it with twenty, and it was the same back then, too." He wrinkled his nose. "Long story short, Aster was damn good at what he did, and what he did was fight fearlings. He went from Ranger to captain of a small squad, then a bigger squad, and then he was a commander in charge of an entire army against the fearlings."

Jack grinned down into his empty mug.

"The fearlings, and the dream pirates, were rounded up and locked away in a special prison made just for them. Don't ask me why they weren't all just killed, it wasn't up to me and it wasn't up to anyone else of sense, either. The Tsar Lunanoff was probably trying to be merciful, though they didn't deserve it."

He sipped at his tea, to sooth his throat. He didn't normally talk this much all in one go. "The hero of the war, General Kozmotis Pitchiner, volunteered to guard the prison."

Jack shook his head, and then used his fingers to break his frosted spikes of hair. "That's not going to end well."

"No." Aster looked out the window. "Well, first Aster knew of anything was when the fearlings overran the Valley where he was living. He'd retired, you see. Intended to settle down, maybe raise some children. He wasn't much of a farmer, or herder, but he could paint well enough to make a living off it. Knew how to make dyes for thread and cloth, too."

By that point, everyone had learnt what real fighting was. "The fearlings were odd- they kept trying to infect Pooka, make _them_ into fearlings too. They had more success with the kits, but... Well, it didn't quite work. The kits would be fearlings for about a week or so before keeling over dead."

Jack reached across the table and touched Aster's hand. "You saw that," he said. "None of your family-?"

"I was an orphan, didn't have a mate yet." He closed his eyes. "But yes, I saw. So did Aster. The pooka fought, of course. He ended up fighting his way to the Tsar Lunanoff's palace. It was a losing battle, everywhere. The fearlings were being led by someone who knew _everything_ about the Tsar's army."

"Pitch?"

"What used to be Pitchiner, yeah." Aster sipped at his tea again. "Aster didn't know it at the time, but Pitch sent his fearlings and destroyed Gallifrey." If he kept his tone matter of fact, maybe he wouldn't break down in telling it. "It's cinders now. There's nothing left."

Jack's hand tightened on his. "But there were other Pooka, right? That left to fight off planet?"

"There were. They died." He swallowed, and concentrated on getting the words _out_. "The Tsar sent his son off in a ship called the moon clipper. Just before his palace got overran by fearlings." He waved his hand in the vague direction of the far off sky, beyond the cavern ceiling. "That's Manny, the Tsar's son. His ship crashed on the moon, and it's where he grew up. A spirit, like us."

Jack peered out the window, as if he could possibly see the moon from underground. "Huh. Well, that explains a lot. I guess he's used to being lonely, then." There was something odd about his voice, something tight.

Aster let go of his mug, and put his hand over Jack's. "Manny doesn't see things the way we do, no," he said. "He got raised by robots."

Jack blinked and stared at him. "Robots?"

"The Tuatha used to have some pretty impressive technology. AI and everything." He squeezed Jack's hand between his. "Manny doesn't understand loneliness. And none of us understood you were lonely. I'm sorry."

Jack looked down, but not before Aster saw the shimmer in his eyes. "I have friends," Jack said. "Just. One of them likes to nap for decades at a time and the others are kind of spread out. I just- I didn't know, for so long, Bunny. I woke up with my name and a bunch of knowledge I couldn't remember getting, and it took three decades before anyone told me why I kept getting walked through."

Aster's chest ached, and he knew why. "I'm sorry."

"It's over and done. You can't go back and fix it." Jack paused. "Can you? I mean, you went back and got _me_..."

"Paradox. I was willing to, to get you, but then it turns out I was just doing what'd already been done." Aster shrugged. "If I went back and tried to set you up right from the start, things would... break."

"Ah." Jack shook his head. "Well, other than the confusion, I think things turned out alright." He raised his eyebrows. "So you were in the middle of a story?"

"Right. Where was I?"

"The Man in the Moon had been sent off as a baby, a la Superman, only instead of hitting the earth his ship missed."

"Jack, your mind works in strange, strange ways."

The frost spirit grinned. "I know."

"Well." Aster took a deep breath. "Pitch Black killed the Tsar and his wife, destroyed the old palace, and left a bunch of his nightmares to harrow the survivors. The Pooka had been the guards protecting the Tsar. Only one survived. Aster."

Jack got an odd look on his face at that. Aster didn't wait for him to start asking questions, just hurried on.

"Aster was mistaken for dead, but he healed up quickly enough. Wasn't that badly hurt, just knocked unconscious, and head wounds always bleed a lot. He went off after Pitch Black, and there was a bit of a kerfuffle, ending with Aster, Pitch, and Sandy trapped on Earth. Sandy's ship is probably still in the Bermuda Triangle."

"Bunny," Jack said, but Aster shushed him.

"Now, this was back a ways, just after the asteroids were finished their orbital bombardment of Earth. The reason why Aster had followed Pitch was two-fold- one, the beast was after the Tsar's son, and Aster wasn't about to let the kid be killed. And two, Pitch had stolen something from the Pooka, from Gallifrey. He'd gloated about it right before cutting down the Tsar and his guards. It's called the Last Light, and it's- it's complicated. It's hope, and dreams, and what's left of the Pooka and Gallifrey. It'd powered all the spells Pooka had used, and most scholars had thought it'd been what had jump started life on Gallifrey."

"And Aster... got it back?" Jack asked. He stared at Aster, eyes flicking from Aster's forehead, to his eyes, then down to his shoulders and back up. "Right?"

"Right. Aster hid the Last Light away in the Earth's core, dug himself a burrow, then ended up hibernating for... yonks. The Last Light ensured he didn't age while he slept, and when he woke up, humans were living in caves and making stone tools."

Jack's fingers twitched in his grip.

"After a bit, Aster somehow got associated with spring, and hope, and Easter eggs." He looked down at the table, at their clasped hands. His ears were back. There was no way Jack could misunderstand him now.

"So." Jack cleared his throat. "Are you- are you Aster's son? Or... Are you _Aster_?"

"E. Aster Bunnymund." He tried to smile.

Jack pulled his hand away, and stood up. Aster closed his eyes. Like that, was it?

And then two arms wrapped around his shoulders, shirt still damp, and a chilly nose burrowed into the fur on the side of his neck. Jack tightened his grip on Aster, and Aster, after a moment of shock, hugged him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the story has been told! Holy fzbt, Aster, you talked a LOT this chapter! It's mostly dialogue- and all from the one guy! You're going to have a sore throat in the morning, boy...


	3. Arc 1: Getting to Know You (3)

Jack pulled back after a minute, and cleared his throat. So that hadn't been awkward at all. Really. Not. At all. But Bunny had just looked so sad, and he was _Aster_ of all people, and Jack had promised. A hug was just a natural reaction to the sad face. No one could blame him for any of it, it was all Bunny's fault!

Bunny smiled at him, ears once more upright and tilted forward ever so slightly. "How you feeling?" he asked. One hand, Jack noticed, was still on his shoulder. It was... nice. Not that he needed any help or support or anything, but still. Nice.

"Tired," Jack admitted. "I should probably get back-" He cut himself off before he could say 'home'. The cave wasn't home. None of the caves were home, none of the trees were home, none of the glaciers, icebergs, or cliff-side ledges were home.

Bunny wrinkled his nose. "You got someone there who can watch you?" he asked.

Well, Summerscales, but she was asleep. And Bob was lovely, but his idea of 'help' was a half-dead chipmunk. "No," Jack admitted.

"Then you can just stay here. I've got a couch you can borrow."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

He wasn't up to another flight. Not even a short one down to Antarctica. He'd have to take one of Bunny's tunnels to get back to North America, but if the lagomorph was going to offer him a place to sleep for the night... Jack wasn't going to turn it down.

"That'd be nice," he said, and grabbed his staff. "Thanks."

"C'mon." Bunny stood up and waved towards an inner door. "Might as well get you settled in now. Unless you'd like something more substantial to eat?"

Not with as much pain as he was currently in. "Maybe in the morning. I'll eat you out of house and home then."

Bunny chuckled, and opened the door. Jack walked through, and skipped to one side before stopping dead.

"So many books," he murmured, turning a bit to take it all in. There didn't seem to be any walls, it was all shelves. And the shelves were all _covered_ with books. Even the bit of space above the doors- there were shelves above the doors. This room didn't have any windows, so there was more room for the shelves.

The furniture- well, obviously none of it had been pushed up against the walls. There was a honest-to-goodness fainting couch in the middle of the room, two hard wooden chairs set up near a desk which was itself behind the couch, and at an angle almost in one corner-

"You have a la-z-boy recliner?" It looked like an older style- which was to say, from the eighties or something- and looked well used.

"It's comfortable," Bunny said, and looked around the room. He frowned, and snatched up a vase stuffed full of scrolls. Jack hadn't even noticed it, but now that he'd seen one, he saw the other ten. Or eleven. Maybe twelve. All on the floor right where a guy might want to walk.

Bunny put the vase back down, beside the desk. "I'll get you a blanket," he said, and waved at the couch. "The washroom's right through there if you need to do anything." He waved at the middle door.

Jack didn't. The more humanoid the spirit, he'd long ago noticed, the less they had to use the bushes to relieve themselves. And Jack was very, very humanoid, because duh. Human.

"I'm fine, thanks."

Bunny nodded, and stepped through the first door, probably in search of a blanket. Jack craned his neck just enough to catch sight of what looked like an overstuffed mattress on the floor. That must be Bunny's bedroom, then, he realized.

He turned and studied the nearest bookshelf, and raised his eyebrows. There were old books, with leather bindings and nothing written on the spines, right next to recent publications of the latest fantasy epics. Tolkien was right next to some German work from- what was that, the fifteenth century?

"Feel free to pick out something that looks interesting," Bunny said. He had a wool blanket folded over one arm. It looked handmade, and was all colors. Apparently someone had decided to use up the last bits of yarn from a lot of previous projects. "But later. You should sleep now, you're swaying."

So he was, but Jack was hardly going to agree with that observation. "Ah, I'm fine. But I could nap, if you're going to."

Bunny snorted at him. "Lie down, Frostbite, before I knock you down."

Jack grinned, and stretched out on the fainting couch. He tucked his staff between him and the back of the couch, like he had at Tooth's, and chuckled a bit when Bunny draped the blanket over him.

"You know, I can't actually get cold," Jack said. Not entirely true- he could _get_ cold just fine. He just couldn't get _hurt_ from it. He slept best when things were a little bit cool, not so well when things were hot and muggy, and surprisingly badly when things were downright frigid. Not that he had trouble getting to sleep, or woke himself up shivering, but when things were too hot or too cold, he had really, _really_ weird dreams.

Like that time he managed to live out a combination of Terminator, Star Wars (the first three, not the later prequel trilogy), and Power Rangers. He'd woken up unable to figure out for several days if it had actually happened or not.

"You won't overheat with a single blanket, and it's comforting, isn't it?"

It was. Jack nodded and relaxed back against the couch cushions. "Thanks, Bunny."

Bunny brushed his hand over Jack's forehead. "G'night, Frostbite. Sleep well."

"You too." Jack half-closed his eyes, and watched as Bunny headed back into his bedroom. Once the door was closed, he opened his eyes again.

The light didn't bother him; Bunny apparently used oil lamps for light, and they'd mostly been snuffed out sometime before Jack had been shown the room. There was enough light to see, but if he was going to, say, read a book, he'd have to light another lamp. Not that he wanted to read at the moment; rather, he wanted to think, sort everything out mentally so he could actually _sleep_. If he didn't, he'd be awake all night.

He'd spent the past month so _angry_ every time he'd thought about Aster, left behind, so young and helpless. He'd come up with all sorts of things to yell at Bunny, any number of speeches going over what a horrible person he was to leave a kid behind in a place like that.

And now he knew that Bunny _was_ Aster, all grown up.

Honestly, he had no idea why it hadn't occurred to him before. Aster had been a long-limbed little kid, with big, green eyes, light gray fur, dark gray markings, and white fur from his chin down his chest and stomach. Bunny... Well, he wasn't a long-limbed little kid, he was a fully grown adult, but otherwise it was all the same.

Maybe it was the attitude? Bunny was- well, he was _Bunny_. Confident, very much an accomplished warrior and artist, giving an impression that if you dropped him in the middle of nowhere- and kept him from opening a tunnel- he'd have a mansion built with bamboo in under a week. There'd be fountains and pleasure gardens and who knew what all else. He could take care of himself, that was the thing.

Little Aster had been- well, he'd been helpless, really. He'd looked to Jack for protection and comfort, and if _he'd_ been dropped in the middle of nowhere... Well, Jack would have rescued him is what would have happened.

He'd once considered the possibility that little Aster had been Bunny's kid. And then when Bunny had been telling his story, Jack had wondered if _Bunny_ was little Aster's kid.

Instead...

He sighed. He just kept going around to that point. It was kind of hard to wrap his mind around, like when he'd first started going through his memories. The person in his memories hadn't quite seemed to be _him_ , since Jackson Friedrich Overland had grown up with parents, a younger sister- an older brother, but Gabriel had gotten sick one year and died- and any number of experiences that Jack Frost just... hadn't had. Jackson had been a bright, trustworthy, _trusting_ young man just coming into his own, a shepherd with a little flock of his own, looking at making himself a little cottage so he could properly start thinking about courtship. He'd been good with dogs and children, suppressed every hint of desire for those of his own gender, and the village priest had considered him a fine example to the younger boys.

Jack Frost, on the other hand, had simply woken up one day under a lake, got pulled out from beneath the ice- thank you _so_ much for your _help_ , Manny, and if he was any more sarcastic he'd drown in it- and he'd had a head full of knowledge and no memories. He hadn't known being attracted to men was 'wrong', he hadn't known how old he was physically- he looked about fourteen, fifteen, and it was _annoying_. More so now that he knew exactly how old he'd been when he'd- died. Technically, he could vote now! And go drinking, legally and everything!

Jack Frost had spent about three hundred years more or less alone. Sure, he'd had his friends, and his pets, but he hadn't seen his friends all that often, and his pets... They were wild animals. They typically lived about a decade with his help, but not often very much longer than that. He'd learnt to be wary, to be suspicious of every new person until they proved themselves. He'd also learnt to hide that suspicion. People got cranky when eyeballed.

Reconciling his two selves had taken effort.

He supposed it'd be just as tricky reconciling his two impressions of Aster. Bunny. The lagomorph.

Starting with what name to use.

Bunny, he decided. Maybe that'd change, later, but for right now he couldn't think of the adult rabbit as anything other than Bunny.

Mind settled, more or less, Jack closed his eyes and slept.

* * *

Someone was staring at him.

Jack slept lightly, unless he was too injured to do otherwise. It had saved his life more than once- bears of all sorts were not disconcerting when it came to food. And they could see- and _hit_ \- spirits.

He knew where he was, so whoever was staring at him wasn't a bear. Unless it was a drop bear. This was Australia, and they did exist, didn't they?

He cracked one eye open, but had turned so his face was pressed against the back of the couch. Not very helpful, and not very comfortable either. He turned his head, and- eyes!

"Yargh!"

"Crikey!"

Jack jerked back against the couch cushions, and Bunny fell backwards and probably landed really hard on his tail, going by the cursing. Jack figured he had it worse; his chest seized up and for a good minute he couldn't breathe. Or, you know, uncurl. Because pain.

"Frostbite?" Bunny pressed one hand against Jack's shoulder. "You right?"

He hissed in reply, but the pain was easing. "Ow," he breathed, and glared up at the rabbit. "Why were you _staring_ at me?"

Wow, he was whispering. Sounded absolutely not wonderful.

Bunny opened his mouth, and then stopped before saying a single word. His whiskers and ears drooped. It made Jack feel a little like he'd kicked the guy, except this was the guy who had woke him up and been staring at him from less than half a foot away.

"Really," Jack said, and cleared his throat. "I'm not mad," not much, "just... confused."

"Sorry about that." Bunny adjusted Jack's temporary blanket. "I, uh. Just needed to check up on you, is all."

Jack raised one eyebrow, but didn't question it. "Okay. What time is it?" It didn't feel too far off from morning. Of course, other side of the world and all- but he could generally tell when the sun was rising and falling. Something about how it was just a little bit easier to use his powers at night. Amir al Sabah, a jinni that Jack knew, would have said something about water and the moon and gone on and _on_ until getting a snowball to the face.

And, back to the original point, Jack knowing when the sun was rising and setting, he typically didn't get jetlag either.

"About an hour or two before dawn," Bunny said. "Want some brekkie?"

Jack's stomach immediately growled. Loudly. He huffed and glared down at his own torso. It wasn't like he'd had a chance to eat much, recently. "Sure. Triple helpings of everything."

Bunny grinned at him. "How about we start with a two-egg omelette and some toast, and see how you feel after?"

"You eat eggs?" Jack struggled up onto his feet, braced himself upright with his staff, and frowned at the blanket. He should fold it up, but he was pretty sure he'd fall over if he tried.

"If you think you're going anywhere today, you've got another think coming. You're going to spend the morning on that couch, Jack."

He looked up at Bunny. "You can hardly stop me, if I decide to leave."

"Wanna bet?" Bunny drew himself up to his full height. Six foot one- hah! Those ears added a whole extra foot of height. Meant he could loom better than North when he wanted to. "Its partways my fault you got hurt," he said, easing up on the intimidation a bit. "Least I can do is see you get back solid on your feet."

Jack really, really wanted to ask how it was in any way Bunny's fault he'd been hurt- unless it was some sort of guilt carried on from childhood, weird thought- but he had a feeling he wouldn't get an answer. Yet. He could be amazingly persistent when he wanted to be.

"So, eggs?" he asked. Bunny must have taken that as giving in- which it was, sort of- because he smiled and headed to the kitchen.

"Just because I can't eat meat doesn't mean I have a vegan lifestyle, boy-o."

Boy-o? "What are you, Irish now?"

Bunny paused in front of what looked to be his cellar. "You mean they stopped using it upstairs?"

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Upstairs?"

"Above ground. In Oz." A pause. " _Australia_."

"Oh." He tilted his head. "Not that I've heard."

Bunny ducked into the cellar. He might or might not have muttered something about language changing and it being stupid.

Since Jack had, at one time or another in the past three centuries, felt the same, he smiled and didn't say anything.

Bunny stepped back out of the cellar, three eggs in hand. "And yes, I can eat eggs. But not if they're fried in bacon fat. Cheese is... tolerable. Milk isn't. Butter's borderline, and I never put cream in my tea."

Jack nodded, and eased down onto one of the kitchen chairs. "Makes sense," he said. "Being a rabbit and all."

"Pooka."

"Sorry, you don't look much like a river horse to me." Jack pursed his lips. "Well, maybe in the hips."

Bunny mimed throwing an egg at him.

"You going to want anything special in your omelet?" Bunny asked, after a few minutes. He was clearly competent in the kitchen, though Jack could tell it was from necessity rather than because he liked cooking. Some people were like that; Jack, on the other hand, had enjoyed cooking. Even before he got his memories back, he'd make up crude clay pots and cook over small fires when he had the time and supplies. He wasn't about to talk about recepies all day, or the best way to fry an egg, but he enjoyed the process of taking _stuff_ and making it _food_.

"Mm?" Right, Bunny had asked him a question. "No, I'm not picky. Vegetarian too, mostly because I don't like fire and raw meat's disgusting."

Bunny looked down at the oven. "This a problem?"

"No, the fire's contained, and really- I just don't like campfires. Even when I'm really, really careful I always expect something to go up." Like his hair. "Seen too many people not be careful and start forest fires."

"Yeah, they're a problem alright." Bunny jerked his head up, probably meaning the ceiling- or, you know the land above. "Eucalyptuses explode."

"Remind me never to spend any time around those trees, then."

The rabbit grunted, and concentrated on the frying pan.

The resulting omelet looked more like scrambled eggs with bits mixed in than an omelet, but it was food he hadn't had to make himself, and it looked good. Jack dug right in. Bunny had added bits of green onion and chives, which was... not bad. Really. Just pretty plain. Jack would've considered tossing in some tomatoes, maybe some peppers, just for varied colors. This one was yellow egg and green plant, and again. Not bad, just plain.

"You don't like cooking, do you?"

Bunny poked at his plate. "I can manage. But no. Always something better to do, feels like, until I miss a meal or two."

Something inside him relaxed at that. "Well, I like cooking." It was something he could do in exchange for borrowing Bunny's couch. "I should be able to make lunch, so you can do your thing and I can make a mess."

"Just so long as you clean up after yourself..." He looked Jack over. "Well. When you've recovered some. Until then I suppose I can do the dishes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're almost to the end of the getting to know you arc- going to be a bit of a time skip, since this story gets to cover an entire century. Yay! Also yay, I've got two chapters of my original novel done, am working on the third, which is MUCH more than could be said as done in the past YEAR. So yay, method is working!
> 
> Up next for the boys, more talking! Or escaping. I think it's pretty much accepted fanon that Jack is a horrible, horrible patient that would give hospitals nightmares. ("Why are you checking yourself out? You just left surgery and should still be on the painkillers!")


	4. Arc 1: Getting to Know You (4)

Jack was a sneaky little _shit_. Aster had been _sure_ the drongo had been down for an afternoon nap, exhausted from cooking and eating lunch. Only then one of his sentinel eggs had run up. The dag had painted that particular egg all over with red and green candy-cane shapes for the first escape attempt. Aster had assigned the sentinel to watching Jack, and left the paint on so he'd know it was on _special_ duty.

This was the third escape attempt, and this one had _worked_. Jack was out and about in the wilds of downtown Anchorage, Alaska. Hiding, and Aster was buggered if he knew where.

It was summer in this part of the world, but you'd never know it. Or at least, someone more comfortable in Australia's heat wouldn't know it. It felt cold enough to toss a cupful of water up in the air and ice to hit the ground, but there were flowers blooming and ankle biters running around the evening air wearing short pants and colorful t-shirts.

Hell, some of the older blokes were walking about without tops of any kind- and some of them really should have worn _something_. Aster winced at the sight of one man, carting a few spare tractor tires around his middle, wearing a pair of shorts that barely kept him decent.

If you could call any part of his outfit- or lack of one- decent.

He shook his head and started looking. The little ones weren't expecting to see the Easter Bunny, in any incarnation, hopping about on the house roofs- so they didn't see him at all. If any of the littlest ones had been out, they might've looked- before the rug rats started really talking they could see just about any spirit, not that they knew what they were looking at- but there weren't.

Musing over the children and the temperature wasn't going to get Jack found. Aster didn't think Jack had left this area, but how was he to tell? Despite rumors to the contrary, he couldn't find a person anywhere in the world. He had to be in the area, he had to be able to hear, see, or smell them, and Jack... Jack _flew_.

Sure, he was a Ranger, trained to track targets much more dangerous than Jack was- but they had been ground-bound. They left tracks. Jack didn't.

One ear twitched; someone had opened a window, and he could hear music. Pretty enough singer- the lyrics were nice enough too. " _I could fall in love with you, I could fall in love, In my dreams your dreams come true, say you'll dream of us_ -" Not the sort of music he'd go out of his way to listen to, he was a bit too fond of classical, Vivaldi and Beethoven to have much room for more recent stuff, but the singer didn't make him want to claw his ears off either.

Someone else seemed to think the music was worth setting time aside for, though. Aster spotted a bit of blue, got a better angle, and saw Jack. He was sprawled out on the roof, behind a bit of chimney and an odd sort of roof vent, apparently just listening to the music and staring up at the sky.

Aster jumped over, the music making a nice little cover to the faint sound of his feet hitting shingle, and eased his way over to Jack's side.

"My company that terrible?" he asked.

Jack jumped, did a full body flinch, and clapped both hands to his chest. It meant letting go of his staff, which started to obey the demands of gravity and slide down the roof towards the gutter. Jack hissed, expression panicked, but it didn't look like he could quite uncurl enough to grab his weapon.

So Aster caught it instead.

He... didn't really like the expression on Jack's face. Relief, annoyance, resignation- and beneath all that, almost invisible, some old terror lurked and waited to come out into the open, take over everything.

"Didn't mean to startle you." Not exactly a lie, but not entirely the truth, either. He'd wanted to make Jack twitch. Just not to the point of pain. "My company that bad you can't wait to leave?"

He sat down beside Jack, and handed over the staff. Jack took it with a hand that shook worse than a leaf in high wind. He cuddled it close to his chest, and the relief in his eyes was painful to look at.

What had happened, then, to make Jack so fearful for his staff?

"It's not..." Jack licked his lips. "You're not... I just. Got bored. You know me. Always running around, doing something."

Avoiding responsibility, wasn't that how Aster had put it during one of their arguments? He couldn't remember, he'd said so many things, but it had all boiled down to the same, in the end. For almost sixty, maybe seventy years all he'd said about Jack could be summed up as 'a vagabond slacker, no good at anything but wreaking havoc', and only if he was being polite.

He knew better now, he thought. Hoped, anyways. Jack had proven to be good at quite a few things. He was Tarnaske, and- idealized memories or not- Tarnaske had been...

"What's that expression mean?" Jack asked.

"Just realized something," Aster admitted. "You being Tarnaske. You were my first real teacher of Pooka Capo."

"Of what now?"

Jack had taught him the fundamentals and hadn't even known what it all was called. He'd never had a good grasp of what constituted irony. Did this?

"The fighting style you taught me yonks back." He did a bit of hand motion, the first part of what would end in a devastating one-two punch and throw. "Pooka Capo."

"Oh." Jack shrugged one shoulder. "Well, I learnt it from you."

"Stop, you'll make my brain hurt."

Jack grinned at him, and then sobered. "Anyways. It wasn't you, Bunny, really."

Bunny. Bunny, Bunny, Bunny- Jack didn't call him Aster. Or 'Astier', as he'd pronounced Aster's name. He kind of missed it. Always had. "You're not up for much right now but sleeping," he said. "And if you think differently you're just lying to yourself, mate."

"Sometimes you have to." Jack looked away. The music from the open window ended, and some talking show type thing started up. Aster frowned a little, and did his best to ignore it.

"Can you honestly say you're in any shape to fly about, or- what if you had to fight someone? Think you could do that?"

"If I had to."

And... Aster suddenly believed it. If Jack had to fight, right now, like this, he would. He'd pay for it, but he'd force his body through the motions, force his way through the pain, and do what had to be done.

Not a carefree slacker as he'd always thought.

"Are you brooding?" Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows. "I have no idea if this is your actual brooding face or not, but you've got this _expression_ so I'm kind of thinking it is?"

"Not brooding. Just thinking. I don't like the thought of you being on your own right now, Jack. I really don't."

"I can take care of myself." Jack struggled to sit up, and slapped at Aster's hands when he tried to help. "I'm fine!"

"Really?" Aster bit back several very rude words.

Jack huffed. "Really." He rubbed at his chest. "I've been taking care of myself the past three centuries, Bunny, I think I'd know what I can manage by now. This is nothing."

Aster looked away. Three centuries was a blink of the eye for him. He might have slept most of his life, but he'd been awake for thousands upon thousands of years.

Even so.

Blink of the eye or not, three hundred years was a long time. Culture, language, and religion- it all changed. Technology made leaps and bounds of development in ways that had started out unthinkable and became ordinary. Even a bit less than a century, things changed. The first computers had been the size of large rooms and had less calculating power than a graphing calculator, and these days kids walked around with super-computers in their pockets and considered them basic.

Jack had watched it all happen- watched, but never really participated. He'd gotten hurt, either by accident or in fights, and Aster supposed there hadn't been anyone around to patch him up after. He'd been _alone_.

"But... you don't have to take care of yourself anymore," Aster said, all but stammering. He hurried on before Jack could do more than look confused and shocked. "You've got _us_ now."

Jack looked away. "Yeah. I guess."

"No _guessing_." Aster caught Jack's knee with one hand. "You do. Which means until your chest is properly healed up, _all the way_ , my couch is always available. Tooth's got a spot. North has more guest rooms than he has friends. And since flying's a problem right now, we'll help you get to where you want to go."

Jack eyed him sideways, and frowned. "But- but you have your... stuff."

"Easter's not year round and neither is Christmas. Sandy and Tooth can both take breaks; it won't kill them and will even do some good. You'd do the same for us," Aster said. "Why're you so surprised when we're willing to do for you?"

"I, uh." Jack shook his head, blinking frequently and hard.

"Come back to the Warren with me?" Aster held out his hand. "If you don't, I'll have to eat my own cooking."

Jack laughed, as Aster had hoped he would, and took his hand.

* * *

_Tarnaske twisted, and he knew- he_ knew _\- that Jack was going to twist free of the soldiers. Aster strained against the soldiers holding him back, snarling and thrashing and it wasn't doing any good._

_The black doe swayed to the side, a tiny little knife in one hand. A joke. Smaller than most eating knives. Wickedly sharp, and she wielded it like an expert._

_Jack kicked her in the collar bone. And she opened him up groin to throat like a fish._

_"Jack!" The soldiers were gone. Tarnaske collapsed to the ground in a heap, hands clutching at the death wound. "No, no, no!"_

_He pressed his hands against the gash, but when he pulled for the healing gift- it was gone. He didn't have it. And his hands were small, not even as big as the half-grown jack he'd been when he met Tarnaske. He was a powerless kit again, and even as he strained for a power he didn't yet have, Jack died._

He stumbled, fell against the doorway, then fell to his knees by the couch. Jack was wrapped up in the lightest blanket he owned, twisted in a way that looked like it should have involved screaming agony. But he was breathing, and Aster could hear his heartbeat. Alive.

It took everything he had not to sob with relief.

He must have breathed heavily, though, because Jack cracked open one eye and grunted at him. The Frostbite slept like a cat, one eye always open.

"B'nny?" Jack freed one hand from the blanket, and flailed in Aster's general direction. "What'cha doing up?"

"Nothing. Just a bit of the collywobbles."

Jack laughed at him, sleepy and barely conscious. "Yeah? Gonna stay up and read some more?"

As he'd done the past four, five nights now, yes. He'd curled up in his recliner, a book in hand, and watched Jack sleep. He suspected the watching was what had led to the most recent and so far only successful escape.

"Yeah," he said. "You mind?"

"Mm-mm." Jack closed his eyes again.

Aster got his book, and stretched out in the recliner. As he'd done the past few nights, he got comfortable, opened his book, and started a pretense of reading. He'd re-read the page half a dozen times, before turning his attention back onto Jack, who'd sleep all unknowing of Aster's turmoil.

He'd just opened the book when he heard a faint scuffing sound. He looked up, and Jack climbed onto his lap.

"Wha-?"

Jack mumbled something, possibly English, but so distorted it wasn't even gibberish, just vague noise. He scrunched up; head on Aster's shoulder and cold feet tucked under one furry thigh. Jack had the blanket in one hand, and tugged at it half-heartedly, before he grunted and let it fall to the floor.

"Jack?" Aster touched one shoulder.

Jack snuffled, and planted one hand firmly on Aster's muzzle. "G't' _sleep_ , m'dg't," he mumbled. He mumbled something else, and might have said 'Astier' and might have said something else, but...

Aster stretched one arm out and caught up the blanket. He draped it over the both of them, set the book aside, and wrapped his arms around Jack's waist. He closed his eyes, and it was Tarnaske chill on his fur, Tarnaske's scent in his nose, and he slept.

And there were no nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the music from the beginning is [Reach For Me](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Iag7VCAp2s), from Smash. (Yes, the TV show. YouTube link.) Just if you're curious. 
> 
> So Jack is still getting used to the idea that people would help him if he needed it. Poor guy needs cuddles... Wait... Oh. Yeah. Yay!
> 
> Not like he's going to be embarrassed when he wakes up or anything...


	5. Arc 1: Getting to Know You (5)

Jack rubbed his cheek against the top of the kid's head- something was odd there- and hummed. He hadn't slept this comfortably since before the while 'almost gutted' thing. He was curled up against little Aster, arms wrapped as far around the kid's shoulders as they'd go. Something odd about that, too. Whatever he was sleeping on, it was comfortable and warm.

And breathing.

Breathing?

Jack opened his eyes, and blinked. Aster. Only big.

That was about the point where he woke up. Jack squeaked. Squeaked, and not screamed. Because squeaking was the sort of thing a guy _might_ do if he was surprised- and Jack was- and screaming was just... undignified. So he _squeaked_.

Bunny jerked, and yeah, Bunny was a big, strong guy, and Jack maybe twitched and flailed a bit when the surface he was lying on- Bunny, oh man, he was curled up and snuggled against _Bunny_ \- and then there was a knee and an elbow and Jack might have whited out a bit from the pain in his chest and lower stomach. Since his groin was numb. From the knee that had hit him there.

Owch.

He blinked away the sparkles and looked around. He was curled up beside the recliner, surprisingly not panting for breath. Apparently he'd recovered a bit between falling off Bunny's lap... Embarrassment later, Jack. He'd recovered before getting his sight back, was what he figured happened.

Bunny was also on the floor, in front of the recliner, one leg up on the seat, the other keeping the leg rest mostly folded down. Bunny was curled up in the same pose as Jack, as though... Whoops.

"I didn't mean to get you with my knee," Jack said. And wow, he didn't sound very good.

"Me either," Bunny rasped in reply. "What happened?"

Could he sit up? Apparently he could. "Woke up surprised. Did I hit you in the throat?"

"With your _elbow_."

"Whoops."

Bunny glared at him.

"No, really. I didn't mean to. I just..." Jack flailed about with one hand, trying to find the words, and gave up. "Good morning? What was I doing on your, uh. Your lap?" He'd been sleeping on Bunny's _lap_. If he still blushed like a normal person he should have been bright red. As it was, he was pretty sure his hair was frosted into spikes.

"Just wandered over half asleep." Bunny sat up, and gave the recliner's footrest a half-hearted kick to close it fully. "It, uh. It was nice."

Yeah, it had been, up until he woke up. "Yeah." Jack cleared his throat, and got up onto his feet. It wasn't as much of a struggle as he'd expected, even though he really, really wanted to walk bow-legged for a while. Just a couple days, until the pain went away. "Sorry. I, uh. Yeah."

Bunny stood up too, and he seemed to be standing normally. Either he recovered from the pain a lot faster, it was a rabbit- Pooka- thing, or Jack hadn't hit him as hard. "Well. That's not a waking I want to repeat. Breakfast?"

Jack nodded, and shook his head when Bunny walked off to the kitchen. As if he didn't think anything weird about Jack... well... _cuddling_ him last night.

That _was_ weird, wasn't it? They were... things were... It was _complicated_ , was all. They hadn't been friends before Jack's little trip through time, not really. Uneasy allies. But at the same time... Thinking about it, he'd known more about Bunny than he knew about Tooth, or Sandy, or North. Mostly what he knew were things not to say, or set off an argument. But he also knew that Bunny had broken his knee a while back- before Jack had been born, actually- and it still troubled him sometimes in the cold. Or- he even knew how Bunny sensed the hope and life he stood for, hearing it all as music.

And then he had gone back in time, and, okay, he was still getting used to the idea that little Aster- cute, sweet, starveling Aster, desperate for approval and cuddles- was big, grown-up Bunny. That part was still weird, though, the past few days...

They hadn't argued at all. Maybe that was because Jack still had trouble staying awake more than a few hours at a time, but. There'd been a few times Bunny had looked like he was about to snap, eyes all narrow, shoulders tensed, fur bristling, but... But he'd stopped. And those times he'd looked like that, well, they'd been pretty infrequent.

Jack picked the blanket up from where it'd fallen, over one of the recliner's arms, and folded it. So, what did that mean? That Bunny was taking pity on him, for the injury? Or was it just...

"Frostbite?" Bunny stuck his head in through the doorway. "I've got an omelet done up for you."

"Scrambled eggs," Jack corrected. "You don't know how to make a proper omelet."

"Food's food."

Yeah. Jack shook his head and left the folded blanket on the recliner.

After they'd eaten, Bunny headed out to do... something or other. Paint, maybe? Or maybe it was gardening. Jack wasn't all too clear on just what the lagomorph- that sounded better than Pooka, actually, he heard Pooka and started looking around for demon horses- did all day when he wasn't preparing for Easter.

Something, clearly. Jack always found it difficult to fill his time up when it wasn't winter. Herding the clouds over North America was a full time job then, and it was kind of ironic that when he'd been human winter had been a time to rest and relax. Now things were flipped; summer was when he got to catch his breath and get ready for another winter of work.

He shook his head and retreated to the library to relax.

Okay. What to do, what to do. He was tired of thinking. He had a feeling that the direction his thoughts were going would lead to... stuff he wasn't quite ready to handle at the moment.

Maybe he could read a book.

Or, Jack thought an hour and a half later, not. High fantasy, low fantasy, some weird series about mind-talking horses and their crazy riders, and why did Bunny even have those stories anyways? But nothing could keep his attention. He'd gone through something like seventeen, eighteen books, looking for something to catch his attention, and he just... couldn't.

Maybe something to do? But he wasn't hungry yet, and there was still some time before he made lunch. And really, he'd never had much interest in household chores, other than cooking. The amount of whining and dragging his feet he'd go into when his Ma wanted the firewood chopped up, or his Da wanted the water butt filled from the village well... They must have been so relieved when he was old enough to go out with the sheep. He'd enjoyed that, and it hadn't seemed anything like work.

He put the latest book back on the shelf, and frowned. Nothing was in order. Absolutely nothing. Even the series' weren't grouped together, and you'd think they would be.

"Bunny's very disorganized," Jack murmured, and began to grin.

* * *

"Jack!" Bunny's voice hit pitches no adult male of any mammalian species ever should. " _What did you do_?"

Jack looked up from his book, and raised one eyebrow. "Organized." It had taken most of the day, and thankfully Bunny hadn't wanted to do more than eat lunch and go back outside. Otherwise it wouldn't have been a surprise. "Everything was all over the place, I just made it neater."

The library looked the same at first glance; books everywhere, and a bunch of scrolls in vases by the desk. The change was all in where the books had been moved on the shelves. Everything was stuck together by series, author- shelves were organized into whether something looked interesting, whether it was the older style of books with leather bindings and no title burned into the spines, whether Jack had read the books and if he had, whether he'd thought they were any good.

Bunny looked like he was going to cry.

Jack absolutely did not feel a twinge of guilt. At all. Well. Not much of one. Really.

"My- my books, you- my books, you moved my books- you- _why_?"

"I was bored." Jack stood up, and set his book aside. "Hey," he murmured, and it was surprisingly easy to wrap his arms around Bunny's torso. "I can put it back."

" _How_?" came the despairing wail.

Jack grinned and looked up. Wow, he had an amazing view of the underside of Bunny's chin like this. Sometimes it sucked to be short. "I recorded what book came from what shelf and in what order." It had meant a lot of writing. Good thing he'd grown up knowing how to use a quill, because Bunny apparently liked his writing utensils old fashioned.

Hey, he still used parchment. _Handmade_ , if Jack was any judge.

Maybe that was what Bunny did all day. A little gardening, a little handiwork, papermaking, and who knew what all else.

Bunny dipped his head, managed to bury his face in Jack's hair. "So you can put it back."

"Tomorrow," he promised. "I'm not up to it tonight."

"I'll help." Bunny pulled back, but didn't let go of Jack's shoulders, and when had the lagomorph wrapped him up in a hug like this? "Crazed galah. Don't suppose you managed to whip up a meal while wreaking havoc?"

"Actually," he said, feeling very smug. "I did." Cooking, rearranging, recording, and taking time out to rest, even. "We're having a curried carrot soup, and not just for the alliteration."

Bunny chuckled, and released him. Jack let go a moment later. It had felt... good, hugging him.

"Sounds delicious. Since you've been a busy bee today, how's about I serve, yeah?"

Jack nodded, and followed Bunny into the kitchen.

He wasn't too sure, even during the meal, what they talked about. Jack's prank, something about a visit to North's so everyone could make sure he hadn't died. Bunny complimented the soup and Jack promised to wow him with better cooking, later. Discussion about the book Jack had finally managed to pick up. The book was a good one- Napoleon, with dragons! Jack had watched Napoleon in person, and to put it bluntly...

Maybe it was the American versus the French thing, but he had not liked the little twit. Not one bit. The British Empire at the time had had its problems, but- well, that was over and done with. Not a problem anymore.

Bunny cleaned up the dishes from dinner, and helped Jack get up and back into the living room. The day had finally caught up to him, all the moving books around, and his chest hurt. Not a bright, stabbing pain, that left him unable to see or hear or breathe. Just a dull throb and the feeling like his chest muscles were pulling the scar back open they were so tight.

It was the pain, and the good feelings, and remembering how comfortable he'd been waking up, that made him be stupid. Because it was stupid. No way would Bunny... But he said it anyways.

"You could sleep in the recliner," he suggested, when Bunny turned to his bedroom door.

Bunny paused, and looked over his shoulder at him. "Now why would I do that?"

"Because you're going to wake up later anyways, and come out here to read. Only you won't, and you won't sleep. You might as well start out here."

Bunny looked away, but he didn't go into his room, either.

Jack sat up, and rubbed his chest. "You slept alright last night, didn't you? I promise I won't wake you up with a knee to the groin again."

Bunny turned all the way around. "You want to sleep on me?"

That was- he- well... "It'll be better for my chest," he said, instead of the flat _yes_ that wanted to wiggle out from behind his teeth. "It's pretty sore."

Now the lagomorph moved over to the recliner. "Well, if it's for your chest." He sat down, and patted his lap. "Hop on up, Frostbite."

"No Santa impressions." Jack grinned at Bunny's expression, and brought the blanket over. It took a little bit of adjusting, and then a little more when Bunny put the foot rest up, but yeah. Comfortable. Slightly awkward, probably just on his end, but his chest did feel better. Mostly flat, propped up in a way that didn't strain his muscles, and Bunny's warmth sinking into his cold body... Yeah, this was much better.

He relaxed against Bunny. This was... He slung an arm across the lagomorph's chest, rested his head in the crook of Bunny's neck. Fur tickled the tip of his nose, his chin, his forehead, his eyelashes, and he smiled.

Maybe, if they did this more, he'd adjust to the weird urge to wrap Bunny up in his arms and protect him from the world. Because that was just weird.

For the moment, though, he wanted to sleep. So he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it took me forever, guys. The original story was being... stupid is the nicest word I can come up with, but I'm not good at Political plots. I'm better with "go from point a, to point b, to point c. Introspection at point d, then action scene to kill the bad guy #1." Alas, this story added an unexpected twist, but I'm getting rid of the twist with fishhooks. It makes sense in context.
> 
> Death by fishhooks... Owch...


	6. Arc 1: Getting to Know You (6)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: It's long.

If he never moved again... he'd be fine with that. Aster, very carefully, rubbed his chin against Jack's hair, and sighed. The Frostbite didn't wake up. A good thing, that. He needed his sleep, if he was going to get better.

Not that it'd be a speedy process, but already Aster could see improvement. Jack had arrived in the Warren struggling on the last of his reserves, distrustful and hurt. Now, well, escape attempts aside, he had more energy, and they were getting along better.

It was still so strange, though. Every so often Jack would say something, or make an expression, and Aster would feel all of twelve years old again. Because Jack was Tarnaske, and the knowledge would clobber him over the head, and he'd feel like the world was tilting beneath his feet. It wasn't, of course. And Jack never noticed- or ignored it, if he noticed- his occasional moments of disorientation and breathlessness.

Really, that was one reason why he was keeping away from his Burrow as much as he was. It was somehow easier to sort through his emotions away from Jack. Easier to hammer it into his own mind that Jack was Tarnaske and Tarnaske was Jack; everything he'd admired and respected in Tarnaske was in Jack too.

Mind, he hadn't at the time realized how much of a cruel streak was in Tarnaske. As a young jack, he hadn't thought much of Tarnaske's entrance, other than it being a rescue. Looking back as an adult- well, yes, on the one hand his childhood tormentors had deserved all that pain and more, but... It didn't quite sit right. Couldn't there have been some other way? And there had been other things he'd overheard, that in hindsight had to have been Tarnaske- or Jack, rather, and his ice powers.

More recently there'd been the reorganization of his books. Aster... Well, at least Jack had recorded everything before moving a single novel, and they'd got it put back the way it'd been before, and in time for lunch, too. But a bloke's library could be almost as personal as his nest, and in Aster's case, more so. Jack's mucking about had _hurt_.

He'd seemed to pick up on it, at least. Jack had given him concerned looks the entire morning, and gone an extra step or three in making lunch. It wasn't like he'd really apologized for it, but maybe actions were better than words.

That had been yesterday, and they'd curled up on the recliner again that evening. Jack had taken a few minutes to settle down, though it was hard to say if it was because his chest pained him, or some other reason.

Aster wasn't _sure_ what other reason there could be, but he had his suspicions. Essentially, not being allowed out of the Warren without company- something Jack had not yet taken him up on- the Frostbite was being forced into both inactivity and interpersonal interaction. The inactivity was starting to make him twitch, Aster could see that, and the interaction...

He sighed, breath ruffling Jack's hair. He knew how going long stretches of time without talking to another person could make your own language seem alien and strange. It could make face to face communication seem like something out of your worst nightmare. There'd been plenty of times in the past where Aster had rejected society, and then a few years later decided to rejoin it. He'd had to relearn _everything_ , it'd seemed, and it had always ended with him rejecting society a few short centuries later. Really, this had been the longest stretch of time that he'd been active in the spirit society, and most of his time had been pretty reclusive even for his standards!

Jack was younger, but wouldn't that make everything worse? He'd have less experience, less understanding of how you fumbled, and fumbled, and expected everyone to hate you for your mistakes, only for time to pass and for you to learn the secret languages of society all over again. That could very easily be what was keeping him up at night before sleeping. And he was only really dealing with Aster.

Perhaps it was best that the past week had been spent holed up in the Burrow and the Warren. It'd given Jack time to get his feet under him, metaphorically and literally.

That was to change this afternoon, though. Sandy had gotten into the Warren yesterday afternoon, and given Aster his marching orders. The others wanted to see Jack and make sure he was fine, with their own eyes. He could blame them, and it wasn't like he'd been keeping them notified as to Jack's wellbeing the past week. He was actually rather surprised Sandy had known where Jack _was_.

Really, that was probably the only reason no one had formed a search party.

He tightened his grip a little around Jack's waist. Nothing else had woken him, but that, apparently, was the signal that it was time to wake up and start the day. He stirred, fingers tightening in Aster's fur, then relaxing.

"Ugh. B'nny?"

"Yeah." Aster smiled a little. Sleepy Jack was a cute Jack, really.

"... Time 's it?"

"Morning." At least Jack didn't have the human obsession with "what hour is it how much time is left in the day _I need to know now_ " that he'd seen most younger spirits adopt. They had centuries; what did it matter if they slept in halfway to noon?

Not that the two of them had done that. According to his inner clock, the sun was up only a few hours now. They had plenty of time to get up, and get to North's.

"Time to wake up," Aster prompted, when Jack didn't move. The Frostbite whined, and shifted to hide even more of his face in Aster's chest-ruff. "C'mon, Jack, if you don't wake up North'll catch us snuggling."

It absolutely did not hurt that Jack was on his feet and several meters away from the chair in seconds. At all.

Well. Maybe a little.

"North's visiting?" Jack asked, only a little breathless. Either the acrobatics hadn't hurt his chest- unlikely- or he was hiding it very, very well.

"Well, more of a threat that if I didn't show you off, prove you weren't dead, at the Workshop, there'd be an invasion." Aster stood up, and thumped the footrest once to make sure it was closed. Sometimes it didn't 'lock' all the way, and it'd spring open at the worst moment. Very annoying.

"I'm fine." Jack picked up his staff from the couch, and tapped it against the floor as he walked. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Something light. Knowing North? He'll stuff us with grub the moment we show our noses."

Jack muttered something, not that Aster tried to listen in. It was German anyways, he thought.

Breakfast turned out to be some sort of yogurt-and-fruit cup. Probably had a fancy name, but not knowing what it was called didn't do anything to the taste. Aster had thirds.

There weren't too many dishes to wash and linger over, sadly. Aster hung the dishcloth up at last, and turned to face Jack.

"I don't think you should fly."

Jack scowled. "Why not?"

So many reasons. "I'd like to look at least a little responsible? That wind of yours is a sweet sheila, don't get me wrong, but she plays a bit rough, doesn't she?"

Jack looked up at the ceiling. "Why do people insist on personifying the wind?" he asked.

Aster raised his eyebrows.

He looked down. "Seriously, the wind is... the wind. There are wind _spirits_ , sure, but the wind itself? C'mon, Bunny. Really?"

"You're always calling it."

Jack rolled his eyes. "And North calls his destination before throwing a snow globe, but he doesn't _have_ to."

"Fine, fine." Aster leaned back against the counter, and smirked. "I suppose it's just like most blokes giving personality to their cars."

"Wouldn't know. But..." Jack rubbed his chest. "Maybe you're right. But if I walk through your tunnels I'll A, get a concussion and two, it'll take forever."

"I can carry you."

Well, that was a spectacular example of a deadpan look. "You're taller than I am. And I'm no princess."

"What?" Oh, right. "No. What're the kids calling it today, hog-back?"

"Piggyback. Seriously?"

"As long as you don't pull on my ears." Aster shrugged, and acted casual. "You're barely more than a wisp, it'll be faster, and I can be a sight easier on you than the wind can." That... didn't sound quite right, but it was probably just his stupid, perverted brain at fault. At least he had his physical reactions under control, though he suspected later in the year that might change. He'd have to find some way to convince Jack to spend about a month and a bit out of the Warren, and not swing by for a visit.

Maybe North could think of something.

Jack smiled at him, which didn't help his stupid brain's focus on stupid word choices any. "Well. If you're sure. I appreciate it."

"Really?"

"Really, Bunny." Jack hesitated, and then crossed the room to touch his shoulder. "I know you don't like giving people rides like that."

No. He wasn't a beast of burden. When had Jack picked up on that? "Well, you're my mate, aren't you? If I were small you'd let me hitch a ride."

"If I remember right, I carried you plenty when you were small." Jack grinned.

Aster smiled back. Well, yes. "There. Just returning a favor." And hopefully Jack would feel just as safe on his back as he'd felt in Jack's arms.

* * *

Out of consideration for Jack, who did like the cold and seemed to get strength from it, Aster brought his tunnel up just outside North's Workshop. He hunched his shoulders against the wind. Apparently the northern ice cap hadn't gotten the message that it was supposed to be _summer_.

Beside him, Jack took a deep breath, and sighed with every evidence of enjoyment. "This is nice," he said. "Snowball weather. Skiing. Sledding. Snowboarding. Get-outside-and-do-something weather." He clapped his hands, and grinned at Aster. "And you're about to freeze your fluffy little tail off."

"Rack off about my tail." Aster walked towards the front door. It was slower than he would've gone on his own, but faster than Jack would've taken the path, so it evened out.

"But it's so cute and fluffy," the Frostbite said. He looked like he was actually considering reaching over and _tweaking_ it, and that- no. Just no.

"That's it, I'm throwing you at Tooth when we get in." Aster took several careful steps to the side, tail doing it's darnedest to tuck down between his legs. Tails were _personal_. You didn't just reach out and fondle one without invitation. Or without meaning to _give_ invitation. But of course Jack didn't know that. He probably thought that sort of groping was no worse than ruffling another human's hair or something.

"Hey, now. There's no need for that." Jack frowned, and leaned on his staff while they waited for one of the yeti to open the door. "Bunny? C'mon, I was just joking. No actual throwing, okay? Bunny? Cottontail? Kangaroo?"

A yeti opened the door before Aster had to reply. It was one of the older ones, that hadn't gotten their age knocked down. It- it was always difficult, even for Aster, to figure a yeti's gender under all that fur- grunted at them. Before it could wave them in, though, it was knocked aside by a brown blur, which revealed itself to be Phil, hoisting Jack up in a rib-creaking hug.

"Argh! Hi, Phil. Good to, uh. You got young. What happened to you?"

"Snow globes," Aster said, and tugged on Phil's arm. "Put him down, he's injured."

Phil gave him a borderline cranky look, and then put Jack down on his feet. Despite the older yeti's apparent grumbling, Phil shepherded them inside and through the Workshop proper. Jack, as was his usual wont, seemed ready to drag his heels and gawk at everything going on, but between Aster and Phil he was kept moving. Phil only left them when they reached the room they'd apparently be meeting in.

Despite his age and long acquaintance with North, Aster hadn't seen so much as a third of all the rooms in the Workshop, a fact only worsened by the part where North kept adding on wings to the building. The Workshop itself was divided up into various sectors for the different countries. An acceptable toy in America would be rude, hilarious, or hilariously rude in, say, Japan or Africa. And then culture got into it; most people these days, at least in the first- and second-world countries, exchanged gifts on Christmas because- well, that's just what people did. And kids would get exposed to the idea of Santa Claus, and believe, and of course they needed a treat on the special day itself.

Aster was fully within his rights to be jealous at all the attention North got for being Santa, and horrified at all the work. Eggs were time consuming, sure, and he couldn't make them a bit at a time over the year the way North could with his toys, and lately there'd always been a faint worry that the ankle biters would lose interest in the egg hunts and stop believing _en masse_ , but... Well. If he'd had to co-ordinate a baker's dozen different toys appropriate for different cultures and genders and ages and something about 'socio-economic factors' and somehow manage to convince the parents that they'd bought the toys themselves...

Stress-shedding was a precursor to an ulcer, and he'd be suffering both within a week if it'd been his job.

So yes, he was jealous at all the Christmas songs and the special movies on TV and general excitement of the kids. He also respected the amount of work North put into everything, and wanted nothing to do with it himself.

Although since Jack had joined the Guardians, so far he'd been shanghaied into helping on Christmas Eve. The last minute stuff, like checking over the sleigh one final time, which was... tolerable. Once a year. And he'd probably have hit North over the head with a wrench if he tried to do it himself, the bloke had no idea about gears and delicate flight instruments.

Aster rubbed the back of his neck, and looked around the room. It was fancy without being overwhelming. A great deal of red everywhere, so much so he felt tempted to find a few buckets of red and blue paint and start sloshing it over everything, but otherwise comfortable enough.

Jack sat down on the window seat, and the glass promptly frosted over. Aster wondered if, before the whole week together thing, he would have been able to read the look Jack gave his own frost. Or if he'd have noticed. Somehow, he didn't think so.

"Not fond of your own window pictures?" Aster asked. He sat down on one of the chairs, and made a face. Sure, his furniture was all old and battered, but it was a sight more comfortable than _this_ thing.

Or maybe the color was influencing his judgment.

"Huh?" Jack raised his eyebrows. "Where'd you get that?"

"Expression on your face just now."

"Oh." He looked away, and began drawing in the frost. "It's not... I like my frost. Most of the time. Sometimes it'd be nice to _look out a window_ without obstruction, though."

That made sense. Aster nodded, and leaned back in the chair. No, it wasn't just the color, it really was that uncomfortable.

The two of them had just settled down into a relaxed silence when the door slammed open. North entered the room like a conquering hero, heavy on the stomping and the yelling.

"Jack! Bunny! Is good to see you both! You especially, Jack. How do you feel today, hah?" North duplicated Phil's earlier effort, lifting Jack up into a hug that must have done some damage to the poor bloke's ribs.

"Air, air!" Jack gasped and wheezed only a touch theatrically when he was set down again. "Argh. I'm fine. I was. Air. Sweet, blessed air."

Tooth promptly started to scold North. "What if you set back his recovery?" She twitched her tail feathers and touched Jack's shoulder. "You are alright, aren't you?"

Jack, no dummy, smiled and nodded. "Perfectly fine."

Tooth melted at the sight of his teeth. "Oh, that's good. Have you been brushing?"

"Sure? Yes, absolutely." Jack looked to the side.

Sandy floated forward and nudged Tooth aside before she could start in on the importance of brushing. Aster could read Sandy's images the best out of all of them; he was worried about Jack, and relieved he was alright, and would appreciate it if Jack didn't pull a vanishing act on them again.

Jack laughed, and fiddled absently with his staff. "Sorry, I have no idea what you just said there."

Sandy huffed, but hugged him anyways.

"So, Jack, you have been staying with Bunny?" North sat down in another chair, this one a wingback, and actually looked comfortable, the dag.

Jack smirked at Aster. "Yeah, he kept me locked up in his evil lair."

North blinked at that. "You have evil lair?" he asked Aster.

Tooth and Sandy both muffled giggles. Aster glowered at them. "No, I don't. Don't listen to Jack, he's just joshing you."

"Joshing?" Jack drew a smiley face in the window frost. "Haven't heard that in a while."

North rolled his eyes. "It is very good you are well, Jack. We all were worried. Please, don't do that again."

"Well. I can't promise anything." Jack shrugged. "But I'll try, alright?"

"It's as good as we're going to get," Aster said, before anyone could press for more.

Sandy raised his eyebrows, but nodded. Slowly, but he nodded. Tooth sighed, and dipped her chin in regal agreement.

"Try very hard?" she suggested.

Jack shrugged.

And now the silence turned awkward, Aster supposed. This had been a bad idea. Not only because of his suspicions. But because Jack would be too used to gatherings that turned into arguments with Aster, or- well, the others had always treated Jack much better, which was something he regretted. But _better_ didn't mean they hadn't hurt him on occasion.

It was human nature to linger over the memory of old hurts, he knew; it was Pooka nature too. All about figuring out how you'd been hurt and how to keep it from happening again.

Jack had a lot of old hurts to nurse.

North cleared his throat and launched into what sounded like a semi-prepared speech. The first few words told Aster all he wanted or needed to know; Christmas, again. North started preparing for his day earlier and earlier every year, it seemed.

He turned the old Cossack out, more or less. It wasn't like he didn't _know_ what the bloke was saying. Presents were important; Christmas was the biggest holiday of the year, and on and on and on. Aster supposed he'd given North an easy time of it since Jack had joined them. He'd have to start poking at that superiority complex a bit.

"Will need to get started on your presents soonest, will no doubt be complicated," North said. That was new. They were getting presents now?

North turned to Jack. "And you, I expect grand wish from you. Have to make up for three hundred years, да?"

" _Excuse me_?"

Aster stopped slouching, and saw Tooth shiver. That- had Jack actually made the temperature dip with his _voice_? He must have... There was a very, very fine layer of ice crystals on the end table nearest Aster.

Jack sat bolt upright on his window seat, looking more than a bit like those Egyptian statues of seated pharaohs. His staff was across his lap, clutched in white knuckled hands. Hadn't those desert rulers used a type of crook for their religious rigmarole?

A little muscle at the corner of his jaw was twitching with tension. His eyes were cold and hard.

"Just what," he asked, enunciating each word very carefully, "do you mean by that, North?"

North blinked at Jack. He didn't, as Aster half expected, look to the others. Instead, he just looked confused. A bit like one poor old dog Aster had seen some years back, when Aster had moved its food bowl so he could hide a googy. The dog just hadn't understood _why_.

"Well," he said. "It's about time you got Christmas present from me, yes?"

Jack's finger's twitched on his staff. "Go on."

Aster shivered, and did his best to shrink in his seat. He'd never, ever seen Jack this angry- Well. No. He'd seen it once before. During the blizzard of Easter '68, actually. Jack had been- _terse_ \- when he'd shown up, and only after Aster had let slip that it was Easter, and the egg hunts were ruined, had he switched from this contained, frozen anger to something a little more normal, even regretful.

"And it has been a long time since your last, proper Christmas." North frowned. "I thought you would be happy at idea."

"I suppose it all depends," Jack said. "Is this because you consider me a child? Or is it _pity_?" He spat the word, as if it was something vile. "Because I assure you, North. I am not a child. And I do not need, and I especially do not _want_ , your pity."

"We don't pity you," Tooth said, rescuing North from Jack's regard. "There are times we feel guilty for leaving you-"

"Guilty?" Jack asked, interrupting her. " _Guilty_?"

Aster swallowed. Had Jack's eyes gotten lighter? What did that mean, exactly?

"There is no reason for you to feel _guilty_ ," Jack said, still in that calm, even tone that had a skim of ice forming over everything. "Let me set you straight on that. I was not alone, those three centuries. I had friends; I have them still, those who are not you. Even if I _had_ been alone, there are worse fates. I had the world. Any play I wished to see, I could see. Any symphony I wished to hear, I could hear. There were no fetters upon me, and any who intended to place them ran afoul of ice and snow."

He stood up, and the gentle click of his staff against the floor was like a gunshot. "And before you speak of your spheres- Christmas, and Easter, and baby teeth and sweet dreams- I am a bit... old, for such things."

"What the- you're _twelve_ ," Aster blurted, before he could stop himself. "We should've-"

Jack's glare cut him off. "I'm not. I was the oldest child of my family, of seven children, and my youngest sister was _seven_."

Fourteen wasn't much better, Aster thought, but he kept it to himself.

Jack took a deep breath in through his nose, and looked them each in the eye. And suddenly, he wasn't angry anymore, just tired, lines of pain bracketing his mouth. "Really, though. I sure wasn't losing any of my teeth, I _am_ on the Naughty List, North- and what would I do with coal?" He chuckled, and sat back down. "And Sandy, well- you give good dreams, yeah, but they're... kid's dreams."

"Easter," Aster said quietly. "What about that?"

Jack's smile was rueful. "We both know what happened the one time I tried to get involved."

"What- ah, what was behind that? I never asked."

He looked away, made a face at the iced over window, and stared scraping the hoarfrost off with a thumbnail. "Oh. Summerscales suggested I talk to you. Even some adults joined in the egg hunts back then, remember? And Phil wouldn't let me in the Workshop." Jack shrugged. "I never saw Tooth, just the little fairies that always seemed so busy, and Sandy..." He shrugged again.

Sandy showed an image of two people, one himself in miniature, and one clearly Jack, both lounging on a cloud of dreamsand. Only the sand-Jack got up and left after a bit.

"Yeah. I'm a little hyper. And easily distracted." Jack smirked. "Anyways. I figured out there was actually supposed to be a storm over a few of the states, not quite a blizzard but still. Figured I'd make a good impression, have the storm hold off for the day. Only I went and trusted a bunch of winter sprites, and those things aren't as smart as farm-bred turkeys. They went and did pretty much the opposite of what I wanted, and by the time I realized it was too late."

Aster closed his eyes. "So it wasn't your fault. I've been blaming you-"

"It was my responsibility," Jack said, a faint hint of that- contained- anger in his voice. "Maybe I didn't make the storm myself, but I was the one who set it in motion. Whether I wanted it to happen that way or not."

"I won't argue with you," he said. "You'd probably only win."

"Yeah, I cheat," Jack said, suddenly chipper. "So, uh, okay. That happened. Sorry for the yelling."

He hadn't raised his voice once. That was yelling?

On second thought... Aster nearly shivered again. Yelling might have been easier to take.

"It... must have needed to be said," Tooth said. "It's alright. You, um. You gave us a lot to think about- but we won't feel guilty," she promised. "Well. Mostly not."

Jack huffed at her.

North stood up, and crossed the room to stand next to Jack's seat. He rested one hand on Jack's shoulder. "The offer of a gift was not pity, or guilt," he said. "It was something I should have done, not just for you but all of us, before this."

"All of..." Jack gestured at them with his staff. "You didn't give any spirit presents before?"

North shook his head. "And that should change, don't you think?"

"I... Well. Yeah. Yeah, I- I guess so." Jack looked away, and scratched at the bridge of his nose. "Now I feel really sheepish. Um. Okay. I'll think about... something."

North turned to look at the rest of them. "You all will think on this. I want requests in week's time! Will be busy enough as is, without you dithering."

That was it, Aster decided. Just for that... Well, he needed a new pocket watch. One that had faces for every time zone in the world, and possibly one of those new fangled global positioning things. Something complicated.

Dithering? _Really_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this turned out a bit longer than I expected, but I figure that's par for the course; the original chapter went really, really fast- like, usually only my fanfic's that fast- but the fanfic was slow. And then my plan for the chapter took a ways to get into place, because you can't just jump into arguments. So yeah, it's long.
> 
> And it being long is fitting for another reason. This is the last chapter of the Getting to Know You arc. Next chapter will be an interlude with time passing, because have I mentioned Pacing the Heart is going to cover a full CENTURY? Yeah. We've got some time to go through. That's why we'll probably have about five or six arcs, and five or six interludes.


	7. First Interlude

Jack stayed at the Warren until just before Christmas. He was there in part because Aster started his initial preparations for Easter at that time- "And I know my own faults. I don't want to wreck this friendship we're starting, so... I'm taking you to North's. See you second full moon after Easter." -And in part because North, before Christmas, went _insane_.

Jack's happy flakes managed to stave off several meltdowns among the yeti. And while he wasn't up to flying ahead of the sleigh to insure a white Christmas, he did his part shepherding the clouds from the sleigh. It was harder that way, because everything had to be done mentally, but the end result was the same. With the unsurprising (to him) addition that Jack spent the next three days sleeping it off, prompting concern from everyone but Sandy.

Sandy, after all, could sense Jack's dreams.

After that came Easter. While everyone was willing to help Aster with his preparations, he only tolerated their presence so much. Most of the work was done alone, so he could focus on the eggs without any distractions.

"I worry about him," Jack admitted, during a visit with Tooth. "I mean, I know he's all grown up now and can take care of himself, but- sometimes I don't think he's the sharpest sword on the rack, you know?"

"I think you've been at North's too long if you're using swords as an allegory for intelligence," Tooth said. "Bunny's fine. He's done this longer than you've been alive."

"The Easter Bunny thing hasn't been around that much longer than me," he protested, and poured them both cups of tea.

Immediately after Easter, Jack stopped by to check up on Aster. He found the exhausted lagomorph sprawled out under a tree, unconscious. When Jack called his name, Aster twitched slightly, but didn't wake up.

Jack wasn't too worried, though he didn't think Aster would do too well sleeping on the ground. It took a bit of doing, but he was able to hoist the larger male over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, and stagger over to the Burrow. It took some doing to get them both through the doors and Aster gently lowered into bed, but Jack had always been stronger than he looked. Aster didn't do more than twitch the entire time. For all Jack knew, he might have been so deeply asleep he'd gone below the level of dreaming.

Jack found some blankets, and draped them over Aster's body. Then, with a careful look around just in case, he brushed a gentle kiss on the overgrown rabbit's forehead. Times like this it was really easy to see the kid Aster had started out as. And the kid had gone without hugs and kisses for far, far too long.

Aster returned to the land above only a little before the second full moon, just in time for the Guardians to deal with a clash between some Seleighe and Unseleighe. Jack had surprised everyone by coming up with the solution, though it had been somewhat unorthodox. No one had really thought thirty feet of greased (copper) chain, seven rubber squeak-chickens, a gallon of elmer's glue, and a bucket of glitter would have worked, but it did. The two types of Fae had both gone off in a huff, briefly united in annoyance at the newest Guardian, but also no longer homicidal.

Immediately after that, Jack came to Aster with a problem.

"I already have a Bob!" he announced, halfway through the portal and frantic. "I can't have two, it won't work!"

"Uh." Aster put down his sketch pad. "What?"

"Bob!"

"Yeah, no, I don't- what're you talking about?"

Jack huffed and sat down next to Aster. "My bobcat, Bob. Only now there are two of them, and I always call the bobcats Bob, but, see above, two of them! I can't call them both Bob!"

"Uh." Aster mentally flailed a bit. "Why not?"

"Because they're both alive at the same time?" Jack shot Aster a look, like he doubted the lagomorph's sanity.

Aster huffed at him. "Does the new one need to be called Bob?"

"Bobette, maybe," Jack said. "It's a she."

"You look between their legs?" Aster wrinkled his nose. "Really? What about privacy, mate?"

"They're... cats. They wash those bits in full view anyways. They don't care. Besides, males can't get pregnant."

"There is that. Wait, you keep bobcats as pets?"

With that, Jack decided he absolutely had to introduce Aster to his pets, or at least the smaller ones. The meeting with the two bobs went better than expected, if only because the bobcats refused to come down out of the tree they'd climbed on first seeing Aster.

"The critters always do that," Aster said. "Suppose it's better than getting chewed on. Why Yellowstone?"

At that, Jack took Aster to see Summerscales. She was deeply asleep, not even breathing, so at first Aster couldn't make her out. Only then- that ridge of rock became the bridge of her nose, that hump of dirt became a paw...

"The hills are her shoulders and the mountains her spine," Jack said, and laughed. "Don't worry, she doesn't have to eat."

Considering the dragon's _eye_ was bigger than Jack's entire body, Aster thought that was a good thing.

* * *

Jack moved back into the Warren not long after that, once more taking over Aster's couch as a bed. Not that he slept in it much; Aster kept waking up in the middle of the night and relocating to the recliner, when he didn't start out there. Jack, whenever Aster decided to sleep in the chair, would also move to the lagomorph's lap. They both slept better that way.

Not that Jack wanted to tell anyone. He didn't care about his own reputation, much; he was the winter _freak_ who actually liked humans, and company, and wasn't all too fond of killing people. That sort of endeared him to other seasonal spirits, but he also alienated himself. They were all so serious, to varying degrees, and he just... Even as a human, if he'd had to do any kind of work, he'd found _some_ way to make it fun. Between the spirits of his own season hating him just because, and every other seasonal spirit thinking he was more than a little touched in the head, he just... didn't care what they thought.

But Bunny, now, Bunny's reputation was important. He was a Guardian of Childhood, one of the oldest spirits anyone knew of, and everything Jack had been told or overheard said Bunny's words had weight. Jack wasn't going to mess that up for the guy. They were friends now, even if the friendship was still new and fragile.

So Jack kept his mouth shut over their mutual sleeping habits all through summer. In autumn his duties started up again, and this year he was actually well enough to go out. He still got tired easily, but the autumn spirits had somehow found out he'd been really, truly, badly injured, and they did what they could to help out. They couldn't spread frost to signal the crops it was time to ripen so as to spread their seeds; or for the trees to change color in preparation to drop their leaves for winter's slumber.

They could press food and drink on him, and did. Although after drinking what several dryads claimed was cider- "to help with the pain! And make you happy, you like happy!" -Jack made a resolution that as soon as he could, he'd make them all something better. It'd been at least a century since he'd last had a still. He'd have to brush off his old skills. Maybe he could use one of Bunny's tunnels to head over to Ireland, see if any of the _leipreachán_ would teach him how to brew a proper Guinness...

And the _pictsies_. He _had_ to visit the _pictsies_.

* * *

Somehow, it seemed to Jack that all he did was blink and suddenly he was being left at North's again. It was nice to be needed, and boy, was he! Something had happened that made North nervous about getting presents delivered to all the believing children. Something about NORAD and tracking and- well. Jack didn't know exactly, any time North started explaining he'd trail off into muttering in Russian and looking worried.

Christmas _seemed_ to go well. Jack spread the snow where it was appropriate, spent a few days with the Burgess children (who all seemed to think he'd help them with their history homework. And he did. He helped them find the information in the various books and websites. Which wasn't at all what they had expected, but that was life).

North, after, seemed much more relaxed. The lights on his globe twinkled just as brightly as ever, just as numerous. Looking at it, Jack had to wonder.

"Should I get a globe of my own?" he asked.

"Globes are very personal. Cannot be gifted, must be made by yourself, enchanted with your own magic. Process is different for each person, too. What worked for me didn't work for Tooth, or Bunny, and will not work for you," North said. He leaned on the railing, watching the globe spin slowly. "Sandy, he does not have globe. Claims not to need it. But then, he is former wishing star. Good dreams and daydreams, for all children, belief or no."

"I like that," Jack said. "I mean, before I was a Guardian, I spread fun because- well, because that's what I did. Not because they believed in me or not."

North nodded, and sighed. "Sometimes I regret how things have become. Only under special circumstance can I enter home with no believers, now."

"Maybe that'll change. You could talk to the kids down in Burgess, they've got... Plans." Incredibly detailed plans and it kind of worried him a little. At the same time, he was all for it!

"Maybe." North stood up, and clapped Jack on one shoulder. "You seem better."

"I am." Mostly. Sometimes his scar still hurt when he exerted himself or tried to do anything more flexible than standing straight. So really, it still hurt all the time. But he had a bit more energy now. Maybe he also had more believers, he wasn't quite sure. He really only joined the children during snowball fights or whatever, and Jack was such a common name and it was easy for a snowball to be thrown off target...

* * *

Easter swung around again, and with it the egg hunts. There was a record turnout for the current decade, with a few hunts in areas they'd never been before; parts of Africa and a few isolated villages in the Middle East. Jack couldn't help but laugh when the egg hunts were adapted into the local religions' mythos. Whatever let the kids enjoy a sweet treat. Jack had seen enough changes to varying religions just in his three hundred odd years to be bothered by yet another.

Besides, even when he'd been human, he'd questioned the pastor's words. He'd just done so quietly, so as not to be caught doing it.

The problem with religion was that people just kept forgetting what it was, and what their religion so often preached. Not that he was jaded or anything, but you could only see so much bigotry and small-mindedness being excused because it was 'just their religion' before you started getting cynical about it all.

But then, that was just human nature, it seemed. Jack had heard one university fellow theorize- to a small, very select and discreet group of his peers- that humans thrived on co-operating to commit violence. Us against Them, and all that.

He didn't know if that university fellow was right or not, but there were times he wondered.

Not that it changed anything for him. He'd spread fun among the children, and whatever adults he could reach. He'd help the Guardians fight the nasty spirits that wanted nothing more than to hurt, kill, and spread hate.

Maybe that would help the humans. Less hate in the world would only be a good thing, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry if anyone finds the last section 'preachy' or offensive in any way. I have my own views on religion, which aren't the same as the views Jack has given, and aren't the same as my brother's, my parents, my neighbors', yours, the random stranger on the street... 
> 
> In justification for Jack's point of view on religion, human beings do tend to use it as an excuse to go kill the strangers over that-away, instead of "loving thy neighbor" as the Christian Good Book says (pretty sure 9 out of 10 religions say the same). The Crusades are one such example, and there's plenty more of varying degrees. Heck, in South Africa the Christians (of one domination or another, I haven't looked this up recently) were able to use the bible, with no passages taken out and/or added in, to justify Apartheid. 
> 
> And now I'm sorry if anyone found this end note to be long winded and unnecessary!
> 
> Edit: I changed the date Jack would return to the Warren. Zandperl pointed out that the Spring Equinox actually comes BEFORE Easter. Therefore, Jack really can't bend the rules of time and space by returning before he's even left. Now it's the second full moon after Easter.


	8. Arc Two: Tricksters' Games (1)

"Hey, Bunny?"

Aster cracked one eye open. Jack stared at him from two inches away, maybe a little less. Aster wasn't all too certain about that, it was the arse-crack of dawn and he hadn't actually gotten that much sleep the night before. North, the absolute bleeding _psycho_ , had asked Aster's help in chocolate making. Which, yes, consult the expert, but why? Why would North need to make chocolate? And why did he insist on forgetting about a little thing called 'midnight sun' up there in the wasteland of cold and six-month-long days?

That was why North was absolutely mental. He had days that were _six months long_.

Aster hadn't noticed, until he'd actually fallen asleep leaning against a kitchen wall. Sixty-hour days. No. Never again.

"Hey," Jack whispered, and ran a hand over Aster's ears. When'd he learn that made the Pooka all but melt into a puddle of bliss? "Can I borrow a side cavern or something?"

"What'cha need it for?" Aster closed his eye, and wiggled a little closer to Jack, until their noses touched. He didn't need to look, to know Jack was 'blushing' frost. Silly humans and their physical space issues.

"Nothing weird, there's just something I've been thinking of doing, and there's equipment and I need some space. If I set it up anywhere else, someone might break it. Or steal it," Jack added, darkly. "There's a bunch of idiot winter sprites that'll snatch anything shiny. I think Loki uses them for spies."

"Be nice t' th' sprites. They're your season."

"I am nice. Much nicer than I am to other seasonal sprites, but it took me three months to get my equipment together. I don't want to replace anything, that'd just... suck."

"Mm." Aster twisted his neck a bit, so he could snuffle at Jack's shoulder. This was nice. "Sure. Buncha..." He yawned, and blinked his eyes open for a moment. "Bunch of empty caverns. Pick one. Don' break it."

He heard Jack laugh before he fell back asleep.

When he woke up a second time, he'd somehow moved from the recliner in the sitting room, to his nest. Jack must've woken him partially, enough to stumble along with guidance. The thought of Jack in his nest-room wasn't quite as unnerving as it had once been. It wasn't as though he had a bunch of highly personal items left out, or worse, smutty books.

Not that there was anything wrong with such a thing, but, well. Jack was just barely out of short pants, and despite the centuries he'd spent on his own, was quite touchingly innocent. Aster wasn't going to be the first person to crack that innocence.

Besides, the stuff humans wrote for _that_ sort of entertainment just... wasn't interesting to him. He was a Pooka; he needed more than just words on a page to catch his imagination. Or images, either, scent was just as important as sight, and sound... And touch, don't forget touch...

Aster made a face at himself, and headed for his small bathing chamber. At least Jack was out of the Burrow, because otherwise this would be embarrassing.

Of course, once he'd taken care of his body's demands, he noticed how dull his fur had gotten, which lead to a quick grooming session to pull out the dead fur. Not a full one; the last time he'd given himself a full grooming session had been after he'd fallen in what had been, at the time, the new glitter pool. He had no problem being many colors of pastels, but the glitter had itched- and then, when he'd tried to ignore it, _hurt_.

That had been about a century and a half ago, or so? Might be closer to two, now...

He was probably overdue a proper grooming, but- Aster wrinkled his nose at the thought. Wet Pooka smelt only a little better than wet _dog_. No one could blame him for wanting to avoid _that_.

Well, that was his appearance taken care of. Now, what about something to eat? He had a feeling he'd slept longer than just a few hours. Might have snoozed around the clock, in fact.

He found a light salad waiting for him in the kitchen, and grinned. If he'd known Jack had cooking skills like this centuries back, he might've kidnapped the young buck and kept him in the Warren. What the winter spirit could do with an apple, half a head of lettuce, and a bit of honey and oats... Delicious!

The mental image of kidnapping Jack made him chuckle. Oh, he could see it; hunting him down, say, five years after he'd been a spirit, slinging him over one shoulder, and hitting the speed to the Warren...

Jack would've frozen him into a block of ice if he tried it, Aster thought, and grinned.

He washed the plate, and then headed out to find the menace and see how long he'd slept.

It wasn't possible to tell from the state of his gardens. The egg-plants and paint-plants were, for the most part, perennials. After Easter, they tended to wither up, sticking around just long enough for him to gather up the seeds that would form the crop for next Easter. The few that were annuals were so old, by this point, that a decade of neglect wouldn't do them much harm. As for his personal gardens, for everything from the flowers he enjoyed to the medicinal herbs and the fruits and vegetables he ate, it looked like someone had taken care of what little there was to do.

Jack, he supposed. Well, with all the care Aster took in his gardens, there wasn't that much, really. Any weeds were pulled when they were still pale specks just poking out of the dirt; the watering was managed with terracotta pots riddled with tiny cracks, filled with water so they leaked steadily over several days. Whoever- Jack, he was sure- had pulled out the weed specks had also topped up the pots with fresh water.

With all that work done, it was hard to say if he'd slept for only a day- or for several. No matter, Jack would know. Aster just had to find him.

It was harder to follow Jack's scent now than it had been, back when the Frostbite had first moved in. Jack's scent permeated the air, especially close to the Burrow or to the tunnels that led to the various parts of North America. But Aster thought he remembered Jack asking something about one of the side caverns, so he concentrated his attention in that area of the Warren.

The side caverns- except for a very few, he normally avoided them. When he'd first arrived on Earth, and realized he was stuck, he'd planned. He'd dug out some caverns- the Warren itself- and eventually fallen asleep. When he'd woken up, not just briefly but for good, he hadn't at first realized exactly _how long_ he'd slept. He'd gone back to work, discovered his Warren now let out onto what would later be called Australia, and started setting up side caverns for the Pooka survivors that would _surely_ be following the call of the Last Light of Gallifrey. Surely there'd been survivors... he'd survived. And there'd been ambassadors and their families, or just those Pooka who'd preferred living among other cultures and species...

He'd managed to hold onto that hope for a few centuries, but then Sandy had- reluctantly- communicated the truth with him. That he'd slept for far, far longer than just a few thousand years. That Pitch had actually- that there pretty much wasn't _anything_ left of their old galaxy.

That he was the last of his species. He was it. Everyone else was just... gone.

Aster had resigned himself to being the last _pure-blooded_ Pooka, but being a race of shape shifters, they'd always been able to have children with other species. Well, once they'd _met_ those other species. There'd be half-bloods, and _they_ would come...

Only they never had, and after a while Aster had come to the realization that when Sandy said he was the last Pooka, Sandy meant half-breeds and quarter-breeds and on, too.

And that when Sandy said there wasn't anything left of their galaxy... It wasn't exaggerated.

He'd done his best to ignore the caverns after that.

There was one, where he'd uncovered an underground river and it had turned into a waterfall- and the source of all the fresh water in the Warren, in fact- that he visited regularly. It'd turned into something of a jungle oasis. He hadn't ever terraced the sides of the cavern for personal burrows and the family gardens, never imagined young kits playing together while their mothers watched...

Aster stopped, shook his head, and shook it off. He had to get over the disappointment sometime. Might as well be now. Besides, what was it that Jack wanted to set up in a side cavern? The bloke had been a nomad until his injury had forced him into a more rooted lifestyle.

He found Jack coming out of one of the smaller caverns, one he'd never figured would make for good homes. It would have ended up something like a library or a school for the littles, if his dreams had come true.

"Hey, Fluffy-butt," Jack said, grinning. "You're finally awake."

Aster grunted at the nickname. "How long did I sleep?"

"Just under two days. What happened?"

Jack sidled close, and it wasn't a second's thought before Aster slung an arm over the winter spirit's shoulders. Eh, whatever Jack was doing in the side cavern couldn't be anything bad. He'd find out later. "North," he said. "He forgot the sun won't set up there for a ways yet."

Jack scowled. "I hate that, the six month thing."

"Oh? Why?"

Jack muttered something. Even Aster's ears weren't quite capable of making it out. "What was that?"

He sighed. "Pitch. Last time I visited Antarctica when it was night-ish, you know, not exactly perma-night but sure as hay fever not day? He kind of... Anyways, I don't really want to talk about it."

"Kind of what?" Aster asked, all sorts of scenarios running through his mind. He didn't think Pitch was so far gone as to- the Nightmare King didn't seem to like physical contact all that much, but he could do things with words that were almost worse, in a way, and Jack-

Jack snorted. "He broke my staff and tossed me in a crevasse. No worries, I fixed the staff, but, uh, yeah. Not fun. Don't want a repeat."

Right, the staff... Hadn't there been something he'd noticed about Jack's staff, back when they'd all thought he'd been put _in_ it? "Can I take a look?" he asked.

Jack tightened his grip on the staff, fingers going white. "Uh, sure, I guess," he said, and ducked his head a little. "Now?"

"It can be later," Aster promised. The world wouldn't end if he didn't look at it right away- would it?

No, he decided. But if Jack ended up in any fights- damn it, he was already handicapped by his still-healing injury; he didn't need anything else making it hard for him.

"Okay," Jack said, and grinned. There was an edge to it, but Aster wasn't about to press. Not yet.

Maybe later.

Aster moved over to the table, while Jack got his staff leaning just right in the kitchen corner unofficially set aside for it. The thing was too awkward to carry around indoors, at least anywhere other than North's.

"Huh," Aster said. There was a box on the kitchen table. It was about the size of a child's fist, some dark wood he didn't immediately recognize, with what looked like flecks of gold leaf still clinging to the lid. "Jack, is this yours?"

He cracked the box open before Jack could reply, and picked up the gold necklace inside.

Jack's "No, don't!" came just a second too late. Aster felt the tingle; magic, strong and subtle, washed over him. His few defenses were completely subverted, because he didn't have anything set up to protect against _this_.

Aster held very, very still, trying to figure out in what direction the attack had come. From the necklace, clearly, but what now? How would the attack come? In fire, or ice? Physical, or mental?

"Bunny?" Jack edged into view, and looked at the box. And groaned. "Oh, no."

"You know what this is?" Aster asked, and then honked with surprise.

Several large frogs, and one toad, fell down onto his feet.

"Yeah," Jack said, and scooped up the first frog. "I do. Try not to talk, okay? North probably knows how to take it off- I mean, I know, but it's kind of complicated, so there's probably an easier way."

Aster nodded, and carefully set the necklace down on the table. When he looked up at Jack- there was a strange feeling around his neck. He reached up- and touched the necklace.

He gave Jack what he hoped was a deadpan, unimpressed look.

"Cursed jewelry," Jack said. "Kind of hard to get rid of." He sighed, and rubbed his forehead. "We should probably go, before something else shows up."

That, Aster thought, was a _good_ idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I await all guesses as to what's going on, what Jack's working on in that side cavern, who's responsible for the spell that caught Bunny, so on and so forth, I'm sure they'll be amusing.
> 
> I'm sure you're all going to be happy to know that I have more time now to work on fanfic- happy, at least, until I say why. Unfortunately I was let go from my job, which kind of surprised me, because I thought I was doing a good job? But I was still in the six month probationary period, so there's that I guess. Going to be doing job hunting, in between writing. At least I've got savings now.
> 
> Anyways. Wish me luck on the job hunt. Hopefully I won't have to move to Toronto.


	9. Arc Two: Tricksters' Games (2)

Jack bit his lip, and tasted blood. Bunny was mad. Real mad, and if he hadn't been wearing the cursed necklace, he probably would've been swearing up a storm and trying to censor himself. Bunny wasn't fond of cussing the air blue, since he associated with small children so much. But if he had to wear the necklace for very much longer, Jack thought Bunny would explode.

Where had the necklace even come from? Jack had been nabbed by a few of his friends, back when he'd first been made a Guardian. He'd quacked for several weeks before the spell had worn off, and he'd figured that was it. Unless the necklace was the opening salvo to a new war?

Maybe North would give him access to the library, if it was.

The tunnel opened up on the ridge near the Workshop. Bunny got out first, and glowered at the snow banks like they'd done some personal harm to him. Jack hurried after, because this was not a rabbit he wanted to upset. Not until he'd figured out which of his friends he could point Bunny's cranky self at, because that'd be funny to watch. From a distance.

With popcorn.

"Look, if North doesn't- hey, wait!" Jack rushed past the door-yeti. Bunny was a lagomorph on a mission, not about to stop or slow down until he'd found North and gotten rid of the necklace somehow. It made keeping up with him a challenge and the poor yeti that jumped back, to keep from running into him, tended to fall down against each other.

Jack thought it would've been funny, if he'd been able to watch at a distance.

"North!" Bunny bellowed. He caught the large frog in one hand, apparently on automatic. He gave it to a passing yeti, and the creature's expression was _hilarious_.

"Over here," North called. Jack could barely hear the old Cossack, but Bunny didn't seem to have any problems. He altered direction without a pause, and actually sped up a little. Jack finally gave into the inevitable and jumped into the air. There wasn't much of a wind inside, but enough to manage, at least until he caught up with Bunny on the second- third? Maybe fourth- level and dropped down beside him.

North was standing by a table. Jack looked around, since this was yet another new room, and then shrugged. Whatever, if he ever got lost he just jumped out windows until he found an area he did know. It used to startle the locals, but they'd gotten used to it.

He still snuck in from time to time, just so Phil could check security. That was fun too. Not since his injury, but maybe that was something he should look into doing this winter sometime.

"Bunny, good to see you. Jack, yeti found box addressed to you on doorstep." North gestured at the box in question, on the table.

"Huh." Okay, the last box had been small, some sort of dark wood, with flecks of gold leaf. Bunny still had it, if he hadn't crushed it. This box was bigger, made of light wood, and had been inlaid with silver wire in patterns very much like curling vines or ferns.

He picked it up, then started to open the box.

"Oy, don't do that!" Bunny grabbed at the box, jostling it. Frogs appeared to pop out of his mouth with every word. Jack knew, with experience, that the amphibians were actually appearing half an inch away from his lips. "Remember the _last_ box?"

He jostled the box again, and then Jack lost his grip. They both fumbled to catch it, the lid flipped open-

Jack saw it happen as though in slow motion, and was already groaning when the silver and green wristband snapped closed on Bunny's wrist.

Bunny looked from the wristband, or bracelet- Jack didn't know anything about jewelry, it was too small to be a wrist guard- and then up at Jack. He held up his hand, and raised one eyebrow.

Oh boy. Time to start talking.

* * *

"You mean these tricksters _attack_ you and you want us to _leave it be_?" Bunny caught and tossed the frogs and toads into a bucket beside him. It had already been emptied twice. "What the _hell_ , Frostbite?"

North glanced at Bunny, and then looked at Jack. "I agree with our angry rabbit. This is not appropriate. Frogs are bad enough, who knows what this bracer does?"

"Is that what it's called?" Jack asked, peering at the bracelet. Well, bracer. Loki had outdone himself this time, he couldn't quite make out what the spell was... but it'd be an effect on the personality, he could figure out that much.

"Jack!" Another frog.

"Okay, uh, maybe I explained wrong." Jack rubbed his forehead. Explanations. How did you explain the embodiments of chaos? Well... "Okay. Loki. What do you guys know about him?"

Bunny snorted, which didn't produce an amphibian, and folded his arms.

"Well, he is Norse god of lies, yes? Is to set off Ragnarök when time comes."

"Sort of. More like... chaos." Jack physically groped for words. "He's the kind of guy who'll spike the punch until it's flammable, trick enemies into making friends because both sides want to gut him and drink wine out of his skull, and generally do things for his own amusement. He's not good or evil, he really doesn't care, so long as he's not bored.

"And he likes pranks."

"Like the mistletoe," North said, and tugged on his beard. It was very odd seeing Santa with a _black_ beard, but Jack took the mental weirdness and sat on it. "When he killed Baldr."

"Gods." Jack waved one hand. "They come back. He's much more careful with people who only have one go at things. Besides, from everything I've heard, Baldr deserved it."

North gave him an odd look at that, and Bunny got an expression that Jack couldn't figure out. He'd probably have to tell more stories, later. Second hand ones.

"Anyways. Loki found me sometime in the eighteen-hundreds, and we hit it off. I'm a bit of a prankster myself, you know," Jack said, and grinned at North in particular. North, having been a target of a few of Jack's milder jokes, did he but know it, groaned and shook his head.

"So you prank each other? Is that what these spells are?"

"Well, yeah. Puck joins in."

"Puck?" Bunny's eyes went wide, and his fur all stood on end. "Robin Goodfellow?"

"You've met?"

Bunny crossed his arms and muttered something. Then they had to pause to try and catch the little baby frog, which actually turned out to be a poison dart frog from the rainforest. Jack was just glad most contact poisons didn't work on him anymore, though he did scrub his hands in the nearest bathroom for something like ten minutes. Just in case.

He came back just as a yeti put down a new bucket beside Bunny, for the inevitable rain of frogs.

"What're they doing with them?" Jack asked. "The frogs, I mean?"

North shrugged. "Eating, probably. I try not to ask about yeti diets too closely. Or sending them back to proper territory."

"As long as none of them cane toads get tossed to Oz," Bunny said. "And yes, Jack, I know Puck." He wrinkled his nose.

"Puck probably did the necklace. He thinks it's funny when I start dropping frogs with every word," Jack said. He caught a frog that was trying to escape the bucket, and tossed it back. "Loki did the bracelet. It's got his feel to it."

"What's it going to do to me?" Bunny eyed it with misgiving.

"Dunno. Last time Loki got me with something, I had hiccups for three weeks." And the time before that he'd sung opera whenever he'd tried to speak. He didn't even _know_ Latin! "We'll find out soon enough."

Bunny sighed, and started tracing a finger on the table. "This misery is like blackest night," he muttered. "Putting a blight on my soul."

North and Jack both stared at him. He sat bolt upright, eyes wide and fur bristling again. "What did I just _say_?"

"Oh," Jack said. "Poetry."

North blinked several times, then backed up a good foot and a half. "Jack, tell me you have solution, yes?"

"I was hoping you'd-"

"I have no experience with pranking spells. Now, you have solution? We do not need Bunny doing poetry!"

"Oy! I do alright. And the situation's good for it... What'm I _saying_? Jack, get this thing off me!"

"Well," Jack said. "Okay. Um, well, you can't just give them away, they go back to you. We can either go to the dwarves Loki knows, they can break the magic, but they're kind of pains and demand money. Well. Gemstones. Like, really hard to find gemstones. Or we could find a dragon."

"A dragon?" North asked.

"Yeah. The old ones can apparently negate magic just by existing. Give the dragon the necklace, or the bracer, and voila." He spread his hands in a 'tada' gesture. "Spell be gone. Bunny no longer speaking frogs or trying to rhyme."

Bunny looked relieved, and then frowned. And started looking around for something... Jack winced. Hopefully no one would give him paper and a pen.

"Hm. I assume you know old dragon capable of helping?" North asked. "Since you seem to have experience, yes?"

"Well, I only know one dragon capable of doing the spell... crush... thing. Summerscales can't, she's not that type of dragon. And the one I do know... He'll do it just because he likes laughing at Loki." Okay, no more stalling. "It's Fafnir. The dragon Fafnir."

"The heart of obsidian on the dragons' meridian?" Bunny asked, and then looked horrified with himself.

"Yeah, that one," Jack said, since addressing the issue would only get weird and probably result in more poison dart frogs. "Only problem is, we can't take a portal too close, and definitely no tunnels. He likes seeing people approach. And he's kind of a jerk about it."

North sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tomorrow. Tonight, you will rest. Tomorrow, you will go. And Bunny will go back to normal."

"Don't worry. I've got a few ideas for Puck and Loki." He'd planned on giving the cider to the dryads, but... Well, maybe he still could. Loki was a bit fonder of mead, after all...

"The sooner the better." They both turned to watch as Bunny questioned a yeti on just where he could find some blank paper to write on. "The sooner, Jack, the better."

"Yeah. I'm getting that impression."

Bunny looked over at them. "Oy, you stunned mullets. What sounds better- bitterest agony of loss, or depths of despair with no light?"

North and Jack looked at each other. Than at Bunny. He scowled at them. "Philistines."

"Actually, I grew up in a Quaker village," Jack told North. "But Philistine is probably close enough, mood he's in."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I finished a chapter of my original novel this morning, so have another chapter of Pacing! (I really don't think I'm joking when I say I'm probably going to publish my novel before getting another job- it's going really fast.)
> 
> I got the necklace and the bracer from Mercedes Lackey's Book "Sleeping Beauty", though I changed what item did what curse... Rings don't fit on Pooka fingers...


	10. Arc Two: Tricksters' Games (3)

_Twixt heaven and earth stands the mountain dreary, do we climb though hearts are weary-_

No. Stop. Beat forehead against tree. Again.

Aster groaned, head aching. "Was I muttering again?"

"Singing." Jack was very deliberately not looking in his direction. His lips might have been twitching. "Which, you know, you've got a nice singing voice. But you're no songwriter."

"I'm aware." Damn it! And of course, with every word, frogs seemed to spill from his mouth! This was all very, extremely, incredibly, _frustrating_. "Your _friends_ would've done this to you?"

"Could be worse. One time I had to sing opera." Jack turned to look at him, and if he was smiling, at least he wasn't laughing. "We're almost there fur-face. Then you can give those annoying baubles to Fafnir and I can start plotting revenge on the two idiots."

"I should be the one getting revenge. _A surprise best served, to those who truly do deserve-_ Argh!"

That was why! That was why he should be getting the revenge, not Jack! Yes, the bloke had to listen to him, but _he_ was the one spouting this nonsense! Which he didn't want to do! No one outside their teenage years should want to go on and on like this!

"Fine, you can help." Jack gestured towards a large cave two-thirds of the way up the mountain slope. It was barely visible from where they stood, in the middle of a stunted forest, in the foothills. It was a small mountain, as things went, and Aster was fit enough for it. Jack could fly, so if he got tired he'd probably just hop into the air.

"But we have to get going now," Jack continued. "So maybe less singing?"

Aster sighed, and nodded. "I'll try." It just- horrible, horrible poetry kept popping up into his head, and he'd start saying it out loud without realizing. And the worst part was, he was having a harder time separating the poetry from his regular thoughts.

"You know," Jack said, as he started walking again. "Maybe Fafnir will let us go through his hoard."

"Dragons don't do that."

"Most dragons don't, but Fafnir's got cursed gold. Not all of it, but most of it causes boils or whatever. He might be willing to let us borrow one or two, then we could copy the spells onto something else and give it to Puck. Or Loki. Both, even."

Aster thought about it. "That's not a bad idea. He knows you better, you should suggest it."

* * *

" _My heart is wrapped in endless night_ -"

"Okay, I'm really, really sorry I suggested that."

" _And something, something, something blight! And in despair my soul is led_ -"

"I didn't mean feed _you_ to Fafnir, I meant the necklace and the bracer."

" _My spirit weeps in awful dread_."

"Bunny. Really. I'm sorry."

" _Oh, love shall never more be mine_!"

"Wait, are you singing badly on _purpose_?"

* * *

Aster huffed, and leaned against a large rock. He'd have called it a boulder- it was a little taller than he was- except there were many bigger rocks around.

They had stopped for the night, which Aster had known would have to happen while at the same time hoping they'd make impossible time. But all the hope in the world wouldn't give them the ability to bolt up the mountainside. Granted, Jack could have flown, but apparently that would have been rude, and it wouldn't have helped Aster at all either.

So they'd slept, and now he couldn't be certain what were really his thoughts, and what were being caused by the spell. He kept trying to make his speech all rhyme and flow like poetry, _bad_ poetry. Even when he tried not to talk, he'd find himself muttering or worse, singing horribly.

"We're almost there," Jack said. "Just a bit further."

Right. Aster sighed, and shoved himself upright again. "Lead on," he said. "I'll try not to make any more songs- damn it."

"That wasn't so bad, actually."

Aster huffed, and followed after Jack. What did it say that the still recovering teenager was showing greater endurance than the Pooka warrior?

Well, Jack did cheat. Like right now, hopping into the air to be carried fifteen forward and up. So there was that.

Aster sighed, and plodded along. Words spun in his mind, and he tried to blank them out.

_“Someone left the cake out in the rain,_ " he crooned, barely listening to himself, " _I don’t think that I can take it, ’cause it took so long to bake it, And I’ll never have that recipe again… Oh_ \- Argh!"

"Bunny?"

He held up a finger, tilted his head back, and screamed as loud and long as he could.

A single snake dropped from his mouth. He caught it on reflex, just behind its head. "I hate this!" he hissed. "The singing and the really bad poetry and damn it, Frostbite, you'd better let me help you out with this revenge thing you've got going, because I. Hate. This."

"Okay." Jack held up one hand and backed away a few steps. "Yes. Absolutely."

"And don't look at me like that!"

"You're holding a black mamba."

Aster looked down at the snake. Oh, so he was.

He honked and threw it away.

"Run?" Jack suggested.

"Run."

They ran.

* * *

The dragon was waiting for them, of course.

Fafnir was a large, dusky-bronze creature with scales the size of serving platters. His eyes were a sullen red, with a hint of glow to them, like a banked fire. He didn't have the oversized fangs Aster had half expected, but considering the dragon's head looked big enough to swallow a good sized horse in one bite, he probably didn't need big teeth to be dangerous.

"Ice child," the dragon said, his voice low and rumbling. Harsh, too. "What brings you to my den? As if I have to ask."

Jack rubbed the back of his head. "Not for me this time, sir. My friend the Easter Bunny got caught in the crossfire, and both objects got bound to him."

Fafnir's attention switched from Jack to Aster. The Pooka put a little steel in his spine, and straightened up under the regard.

"I see two pieces of gold on you," the dragon said, smoke curling from between his lips.

"Yes," Aster said. A frog fell from his lips and hit the stone. The dragon's eye widened.

"I have a frog-speech curse in my hoard already. Have you anything more valuable than that?"

A pity Pooka tails were too short to lash properly. Well, at least the dragon couldn't see his tail twitching away, and wouldn't understand even if he could. "Yes."

The dragon smirked. Maybe. It was hard to tell with reptilian lips. "I won't take the gold if I don't get a demonstration."

Really? _Really_? He looked over at Jack, who nodded and rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he said, and concentrated.

" _Red back funnel web blue ringed octopus, taipan tiger snake add a box jellyfish, stonefish, and the poison thing that lives in a shell, and spikes you when you pick it up. Come to Australia! You might accidentally get killed. Your life's constantly under threat, have you been bitten yet? You've only got three minutes left, before a massive, coronary breakdown._

" _Red back funnel web blue ringed octopus, taipan tiger snake add a box jellyfish, big shark just waiting for you to go swimming at Bondi Beach. Come to Australia! You might accidentally get killed. Your blood is bound to be spilled. With fear your pants will be spilled. Because you might accidentally get killed._ "

Aster stopped singing, and glared at the dragon. At least he'd been able to manage a real song, though he had a feeling that if it hadn't been as... tongue in cheek... as it was, something would have gone wrong.

Well, maybe if he'd sung one of the recent pop sensations... Michael Jackson was the latest up and coming star, wasn't he? There was no way to take that 'Thriller' song seriously.

Jack was giggling, staying up only by leaning on his staff. The dragon, though, seemed unmoved.

Right up until Fafnir began to chuckle, and then threw his head back and laughed until he was wheezing.

"Yes, alright. Which one makes you sing?"

Aster unclipped the bracer. "This one," he said, and handed it over. The dragon was surprisingly big; he could have held Aster in the palm of one hand, with space left over for one or two more Pooka. The broken circle of gold looked very small, glittering on the scaly palm. "And the necklace does the frogs." He dropped that beside the bracer.

Neither item immediately returned to him. He'd tried sleeping with them off, but it hadn't worked. The dragon half-closed his paw, glared at the two items and then-

Aster felt the spells on him snap and fall off, and sighed with relief. No more song lyrics in his head! No more urge to write poetry! Thank goodness.

"Fafnir?" Jack asked, and breathed deeply. "Do you think Bunny and I could look through your hoard, find something with interesting spells on? We want to get back at Puck and Loki."

The dragon growled under his breath. "No. They're the cause of half of what's in here, and you've no skill for setting magic to metal. I wouldn't get anything from it. Go now."

"Fair enough," Jack said, and gestured down the mountain. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." Aster relaxed even more, when there wasn't an urge to find words that rhymed with 'yeah'. "Can I use my tunnels?" he asked the dragon.

"If it will get you away faster. Down in the trees."

Jack skipped on ahead, twirling his staff absently between his hands. "Got any ideas for spells?" he asked.

"Give me a bit, I'll come up with _something_."

"Those two," Jack said, "won't know what hit them." And he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, fast update, I know- but I got good news today, so. Temp agency I know has a possible place, we just have to see if they like (lick? Fingers can't type, apparently, good thing I caught that) my resume. If they do, I might have a year-long job at least!
> 
> For the first scene, the- cough- rhyme was made up by me. My sincerest of apologies. The second bunch of so-called lyrics is actually from Mercedes Lackey's "The Sleeping Beauty", which- it's funny. Okay? I did not do the Poet Prince curse justice.
> 
> The third scene, the lyrics came from a list of top ten bad songs, and to be honest I didn't make note of the title of the song or the author- but considering the mockery going on in the list, I assure everyone I'm not trying to plagiarize.
> 
> The fourth song is a real song, and you can find it [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wy_TB6onHVE) on YouTube. It's funny. Now imagine Hugh Jackman singing that...


	11. Arc Two: Tricksters' Games (4)

"Okay." Jack placed two glass bottles down on the table. "Here's the thing, Puck and Loki know me, but they also have a major weakness that I can exploit every time. I figure for an opening salvo we might as well go with something obvious."

Bunny eyed the bottles, then Jack. "Right. Opening salvo, mate?"

"Hey, these prank wars can go for decades." Maybe a little exaggeration- the longest had hit nine years. Jack still wasn't allowed back in Spain.

"Well, what's this weakness, then?"

Jack grinned and tapped one bottle. "Puck can't get enough of my hard cider. And," he tapped the second bottle, "Loki loves my mead."

Bunny looked like he was thinking about choking. "What was that?"

"Yeah, it's been ages since I've been able to brew that stuff up, so we could probably lay a real whammy of a spell on the bottles and they wouldn't notice."

"You make _hootch_?" The lagomorph leaned forward. "You're twelve!"

"Hey!" Yeah, he looked young- he'd have to do something about that one day, maybe harassing Loki or Puck would finally get results- but _twelve_? "I've been brewing ciders and alcohols for a few centuries now, Bunny, and I'm old enough to legally drink. Twelve?"

"Okay, not twelve- but we're going to get them with hootch?"

"Alcohol. Come on, say it with me now, al-co-hall. _Twelve_?"

Bunny rolled his eyes. "You suggested feeding me to a dragon!"

"But I didn't say you were twelve!"

"Spells?" the lagomorph asked, a little plaintively.

Jack raked his fingers back through his hair, and shrugged. "They know most of my tricks. There's not much you can get to stick to a glass bottle. And the alcohol dilutes it."

Bunny's whiskers twitched when he thought. It was _fascinating_ , and Jack wasn't being sarcastic. "I might have an idea, and it's a subtle one."

He laid the plan out, and Jack had to admit, not only was it subtle, it promised to be hilarious. "I'm going to need a camera."

"North. Now, how long before you can get the- El-Ahrairah help me- alcohol?"

Jack shrugged. "I've actually been brewing it in that side cavern you-"

"There are _stills_ in my _Warren_?" Bunny shrieked.

Jack rubbed his ear and scowled. "Loud much?"

* * *

Five bottles of hard cider went to Puck. Six of mead went to Loki. Each trickster got one trapped bottle out of the lot.

Then came the hard part. Waiting. North had willingly- if very confused- given both Jack and Bunny cameras. Jack got the latest digital camera that didn't come with phone or texting, while Bunny got one that not only used film, was big enough it required a tripod to work properly.

"You do realize they come smaller than that, right?" Jack asked.

"Rack off, mate, I penned the design for this one."

Oh, right, Bunny was _old_.

Puck drank his spelled bottle of hard cider two weeks after getting Jack's gift. Bunny took care of the photos, dug himself a small dark room off the Burrow kitchen, and refused to let Jack see them until Jack had pictures of Loki to share in return.

That only took another week of waiting. Then Jack borrowed a library computer one night, printed out the pictures, and brought them back to the Warren to gloat over.

In one set of pictures, Puck flapped his arms and strutted like a chicken. The spirit looked like a young boy, clad in leather pants rather like Jack's- although much nicer looking- and a linen shirt, and with a thin vine of ivy curling through his golden-red hair. In several of the pictures it looked like he was trying to lay an egg.

In another set of pictures, Loki brooded in a swamp, up to his chest in the murky water. He'd been caught by the spell during one of his 'transitory phases', where his hair was half red, half black, and he had patches of blue on his skin. In some pictures, his mouth was open and he appeared to be trying to catch insects with his tongue; in others a young man with large muscles, blond hair, and a hammer mugged for the camera while holding Loki up by one ankle.

"Who's that?" Bunny asked, though by his tone he already knew.

"Thor."

"How much trouble are we in?"

"No worries, Loki'll go after Thor for that. We're blameless."

A week after the spells wore off, Puck set spiders to cover everything in the Warren in cobwebs. Bunny, Jack found out, was frightened of the eight-legged creatures. Whether it was something from his home world, or because of all the poisonous spiders that lived in Australia (and not so incidentally, had been used to create the cobwebs), it was hard to say. Jack temporarily reduced the temperature in the Warren so he could gather up all the spiders and toss them back out into the world above.

Loki set ravens to follow Jack. North ended up having to give the boy a new sweater, when his old one was irreparably ruined by all the dung.

In response, Jack shaved Loki's beard- a very stylish van dyke- and used actor's glue to stick it to Puck's chin.

"You know," Bunny said. "Wars have started that way."

Jack shrugged. "We're in a war. A prank war!" Then he tackled Bunny and tried to find the lagomorph's ticklish spots.

Loki and Puck didn't confine their targets just to Jack, and now Bunny. They also targeted each other. It provided plenty of material for awkward photos.

As the season began to shift towards autumn, the pranks came slower, but became more elaborate. Loki set up a forest-maze that trapped Jack, Bunny, Puck, and several teenagers and managed to let them go several hours before they'd entered. The teenagers convinced themselves that the adventure had been a result of drinking too much beer, and then hurried away before anything else could happen.

Bunny diverted a river so it flooded Loki's tower, but only the third and fourth floor.

Puck did his best to do something, it never became quite clear what, to the Warren. Jack pulled him aside for a talk that involved knives, threats, and a slasher smile. Puck took the words to heart, and promptly stuck Jack with an adult woman's breasts.

"You know," Jack said, poking at his new chest. "I wanted to look older than I do, but, uh, not like this."

Bunny couldn't reply, he was laughing too hard.

Jack borrowed North's elves for a brief episode involving scaled down catapults, watermelons, and 'glitter bombs'. For a month after the England news services talked about the strange vandalism in Sherwood Forest. Puck shed glitter wherever he walked much longer than that.

By the New Year, the skirmishing had died down. The spells had worn off, the glitter had washed off, and everyone looked the way they should. All pranks were put on hold until after Easter, by Word of Jack. Bunny was very grateful, chased Jack out of the Warren so he could work, and set to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this arc seems determined to have short chapters. At least this one was short. Eeesh. Hopefully the next one will be longer, but, uh. Well. Can't make any promises folks.


	12. Arc Two: Tricksters' Games (5)

"Mother Nature wants snow this Sunday."

Aster looked up from the egg he was working on. He blinked several times, and the three blurs resolved and solidified into one Jack. "Huh?"

Jack muttered one of his not-really-curses, and held up Aster's paintbrush. "When's the last time you slept?"

Aster looked down at his hand. Where had his paintbrush gone?

"Oh, boy." Jack took the egg. Aster _saw_ him do it!

"Thief!" Aster pointed at the left-most Jack. They all sighed at him. Three sighs! At once!

_Weird_.

"C'mon," Jack said. "You need to sleep."

"Painting," Aster told him. He held up the egg- but it was gone! "Someone took my egg," he told center Jack. "I was painting that."

"Uh huh. C'mon Kangaroo. You need a nap." Jack pulled him upright, and grunted when Aster overbalanced and slumped against him.

"Not a kangaroo," he said, and nuzzled at white hair. _Soft_. "Hm?"

"Need to move before I fall over," Jack said. He pushed, and tugged, and got Aster walking over to a little cup. Hill cup. There were pillows!

"That was easy," Jack muttered. He knelt down in the comfy little hollow, and started arranging the pillows. "You just stay here. I've got things for a few hours."

"Stay," Aster told him. He grabbed for Jack's wrist, but Jack _moved_. He grabbed again, and purred when he caught him. "Got you!"

"Yup." Spindly fingers ran through the fur on his forehead. "Jeez, you get young when tired, huh?"

Aster nuzzled Jack's hand. "Tarnaske?"

"Very young." Long fingers groomed the fluff on his cheek, the thinner fur on his neck. "Hey kiddo."

"Don'-" he yawned, jaw cracking. "Don' go?"

"Not going anywhere Aster. Promise."

"You went, though," he protested. "For a long, long time. Not fair. Don' want you gone."

"Hey." Tarnaske cupped his cheek. "Not going _anywhere_. Okay? Sleep now, Aster, I'll be here when you wake up. In fact..." Tarnaske gave him a stick. Jack's stick. _Staff_. He couldn't leave without it.

Aster hummed and cuddled the staff close. Jack wasn't going to leave. That was good. He didn't want Jack to go away.

When he woke up several hours later, Jack was nearby, painting eggs with psychedelic colors and fern patterns. Aster hadn't felt so embarrassed in _centuries_.

Jack didn't say a word though. Just smiled and handed him a paintbrush.

* * *

Easter was a success, thankfully. Good thing too; the ankle biters needed a day when they didn't have to worry about the poor blokes and sheilas up on the moon. Aster hoped Manny was keeping a proper eye on the astronauts. Easter Sunday marked the ninth day without communications, and what with space travel still being so expensive, no one wanted to send up anyone else until a month had passed without contact.

He wasn't too sure what the expedition was about. Jack would know, he was the one who'd twigged onto just what had upset the whole world the fastest.

Aster wished, not for the first time and likely not for the last, that he didn't have his seasonal little problem.

The rut must have been some old, biological carry-over from before his species had gained thumbs. No one around? No problem, just start pumping out hormones and some other sex-starved maniac will follow his nose in short order. A bit awkward in a sentient, _sapient_ person, though. He hadn't had that problem when other Pooka had been around, which in a way made it worse now.

Two months out of the year he turned into a slobbering idiot, who's only life goal involved sex, and a lot of it. He'd always barricaded himself in the Warren, to keep from doing anything horribly stupid, stupidly horrid, or _worse_.

Yonks back, when humans were still using copper swords to bash each others' heads in, he'd tried taking a nest partner, see if that stifled the urges. If anything, it seemed to make the situation worse.

Aster stopped, and looked around. He had no idea where he was, not that it mattered. If he thumped the ground one of his tunnels would open and he'd be back under Australia in short order. The field was pretty, the long grasses dotted with little white flowers that glowed with a touch of orange in the setting sun.

It was beautiful. He didn't have to be back in the Warren right away. This year, it seemed, his blasted, useless rut wouldn't start immediately after the egg hunts.

One nightmare of a year the rut had started just before the egg hunts. Thankfully he'd perfected the magic that made the egglets walk several decades before that, but- it hadn't been good. He still wasn't sure just how the eggs had gotten in the proper places, walking ability or no.

"Wither wander you?"

Aster turned around, and scowled at the Summer trickster. "Hello Puck. What're you doing here?"

The boy-fairy shrugged. "Oh, this and that, not much really. So." He smiled, perfect white teeth gleaming. "It is after the ever so important Easter, when the children hunt the eggs."

"Yeah." Aster folded his arms. "What're you up to?"

"Me?" Puck spread his hands. "Up to something?"

"You're _you_."

"True, very true." Puck darted away a few steps, then spun around to face Aster again. "But! The quiet was to last only until sunset of the hunt." He looked over at the western horizon, red and gold.

"Woah-no. No. Now's really a bad time for it." He should've just gone straight to the Warren. No one had done anything directly to it since the damn creepers. "Really. Two months, Puck, then prank all you want."

The trickster clucked his tongue, and his hands started to glow. "Now, now, don't be stodgy. How does this go? Ah, yes... _If not back to the shell, than back to fledgling_ -"

Aster really needed to start studying magic. It wouldn't help with the current situation, but it was something to fume over in the three seconds before he fell unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, cliffhanger. A recently discovered scene I wrote out several months ago, longhand, inspired this turn of events. While it didn't quite fit, the idea itself did suite...
> 
> Next chapter promises to be longer.


	13. Arc Two: Tricksters' Games (6)

Tooth gaped at one of her mini-fairies, and then choked on a laugh. "No!"

The mini-fairy nodded 'yes', and then twittered something too fast for Jack to catch. Baby Tooth, perched on his knee, rolled her eyes.

"Good, huh?" he asked her. She huffed in reply.

 _They're gossiping about a naga,_ she said. _Silly really- who cares what lady he's seeing right now? He's a snake!_

"Lily-livered belly crawler, huh?" Jack asked, and helped himself to another cracker.

As had quickly become usual, Jack was visiting Tooth during the 'stay away from the Warren' two months after Easter. He might sleep at the Workshop, and in fact spend most of his time competing with North for 'most creative ice sculpture', but even he needed time to cool down and unwind. For most of the year that meant heading out to spread snow, or retreating to the Warren. Tooth's Palace was actually a little too busy, though in a different way from the Workshop, for him to relax all the way.

But it was a different kind of fast paced, he admitted, watching Tooth exchange gossip with her 'girls' and send them out to gather in lost baby teeth.

Besides, Tooth didn't mind if he spent his visit lounging around and snacking. Baby Tooth had confided once that her 'mother' thought it was the heat that made Jack so subdued. On hearing that, he'd spent a good half hour laughing, calming down, only to crack up all over again. He could handle the heat. He didn't necessarily _like_ it, but he could handle it.

He took another cracker, and munched it slowly. He felt... restless. Which was weird, he'd only gotten here an hour ago. It usually took three hours before he started feeling like flying back to the Workshop, his particular part of the world not needing any more snow for the year.

Except right now... Jack shifted Baby Tooth from his knee to his shoulder, and walked over to the nearest window facing... East. Whatever it was, it was to the East.

Technically to the West as well, Earth being a ball shape, but the winds being what they were, going East would be faster.

 _Jack?_ Baby Tooth poked his cheek. _Is something wrong?_

"Dunno," he muttered. He heard feathers rustle, and looked over at Tooth. "I don't- I have to go that way?" He gestured out the window.

"Do you know why?" she asked.

"N-no." He had to go- there was something- he just didn't know _what_. "But, uh. I should go. Fast."

"We don't often get these feelings," Tooth said, wings spreading. "But we have to listen to them when we do. I'll go with you."

Jack nodded. "What's the feeling about?" he asked, and jumped out the window. One good thing about Tooth's Palace- no glass.

"It's always about a child in need," she said, powering her way through the air beside him. Jack nodded, and called the wind. It scooped them up, and Tooth locked her wings and simply rode the wind as it brought them up and into a baby jet stream.

At least he'd healed up enough flying no longer hurt. The ride was a rough one, like the craziest rollercoaster ride in existence. Tooth had a little easier time of it, he thought, but then she was born to fly. Jack had needed to drown first.

Not that he was bitter about it or anything. Although, really, Manny. Slow much? Even just a second or two before the ice broke Jack would've been able to do _something_. Or swim, the cold not being a shock to Jack _Frost_ the way it was to Jack _Overland_.

That was in the past now, no matter how much he wanted to complain. Of course, if he complained, he'd have to complain to _someone_ , the whole 'talking to himself' thing over and done with a few decades before the blizzard of '68. Complaining to himself brought up questions of insanity; complaining to his friends would only upset them because of the whole 'briefly dead' thing.

"Are we getting closer?" Tooth asked. She had to shout, and even then he could barely hear her. They were going very fast.

"Yeah," he yelled back. They were over the ocean now. North America was coming up, but he didn't feel like that was where they should stop. "We keep going!"

The wind sped up a touch. Jack squinted, and did his best to ignore how his heart was racing. The feeling, if it could be called that, was getting stronger. He had a little idea of what it was, now- something was wrong. _Obviously_. Nothing more concrete than that.

North America flashed by underneath them, giving a hint as to their speed. Mountains, plains, trees, water, mountains again, ocean. It was fast, real fast, but not fast enough.

The wind tossed them from the baby jet stream to the adult one, and speed doubled.

"Here!" Jack howled, somewhere over- land, he didn't know what country, he'd figure that out later- and twisted and dove.

Tooth followed, surprisingly agile but then she was the Tooth Fairy. They dove down like two birds of prey, one of them resembling the simile a lot more than the other.

The wind caught and slowed Jack a couple hundred feet from the ground, and lowered him gently. Tooth pumped her wings like a mad thing, stirring up dead leaves and dust, and landed a little harder than Jack did.

"Here?" she asked, and flipped her wings closed. "We're in England."

"At least someone knows where we are." Jack walked a few steps away, and looked around. The feeling, or whatever it was exactly, only gave him a general idea of _this field_. Not very helpful.

"There should be a child somewhere," Tooth said. "You take that way, I'll take this way?"

Jack nodded. "Works," he said, and started forward.

It was dark, so he wasn't entirely sure what the field was being used for- cows? Sheep? Fallow field, maybe- but it was big and empty. He could smell flowers, faintly, and couldn't hear even a distant city or town.

He could hear faint rustling sounds, small animals moving through the grass, but he was used to that. Once upon a time he'd needed a bit of canvas stretched out over his bed to keep the insects from falling out of the thatch onto his face while he slept. It had taken his father three weeks to repair the roof, and Ma had given him what-for the entire time...

Jack shook his head, and did his best to look through the grass. It was knee high, how was he supposed to find anything in this mess? In the _dark_?

"T-Tarnaske?"

Well, that was fast.

Jack straightened up. "Hello?"

"Tarnaske!"

Something small and shaking walloped Jack in the ribs, and then clung. Like a limpet.

Or, he realized, like a young, frightened lagomorph named Aster. "Hey, kiddo," he said, mind racing. Aster was small. Except Aster was now Bunny, who really wasn't small. So what had happened and why was Bunny a midget?

Aster sobbed once. Jack immediately dropped everything, questions, staff, everything, and scooped the little guy up in his arms. That was something; at least he could pick Aster up now. Really, not that he'd ever tell Bunny, but he'd missed that. Bunny could get obsessive about things, and it was really hard to drag him away from his paints, or his eggs, or his gardening, and make him take a nap or sit down and eat a meal.

"Tooth?" he called, and stroked along Aster's ears. "Found the kid!"

Aster snuffled and hid his face in the crook of Jack's neck.

"You did?" Tooth hurried over, not quite running but coming close. "Oh, here, let me-" She did- something- and a ball of witch light formed over one hand. "Oh. Oh! Jack, that's a Pooka!"

"Yeah." Jack squinted at the witch light. He could almost see how she'd done it, but- well, his skills with magic were faint and fragmentary at best. "It's Bunny."

"It's- what? No." Tooth looked around, as if a fully grown lagomorph would pop up and say 'hi'. "No, he- what's this?"

Jack shook his head, and kept petting poor, little Aster's ears. He guessed- he wasn't sure- but Aster probably didn't remember being an adult. Jack didn't think he'd cling so tightly if he'd had his memories.

On the other hand... Sometimes Bunny woke up from a nightmare, and Jack woke up because tight grip was tight. So maybe Aster had his grown-up memories. But probably not.

"It must've been Puck, or Loki," he decided. "The prank war. It's after Easter, this is exactly the sort of thing they'd think of as funny."

Tooth shook her head, and touched Aster's shoulder. The little guy flinched, and shook in Jack's arms. "Oh... We have to figure out how to fix this," she said. "Here, your staff."

Jack took it back, and nodded. "The Workshop?"

"That's as good a place as any. Bunny?" Tooth leaned forward. "Bunny? It's me, Tooth."

Aster keened, and sobbed once. "I don't think he remembers," Jack said. He rubbed his cheek against the kid's head. "C'mon. We'll get to the Workshop, figure things out."

"Right," Tooth said. She bit her lower lip, and extinguished the witch light. "You can carry him?"

"He's pretty light." Jack laughed a little. "All good, no worries."

He heard Tooth spread her wings. "Alright then. Let's go."

Jack nodded, and jumped into the air. The liftoff was a lot gentler than he was used to, but then, he was carrying a midget Bunny around with him. Tooth was faster at getting up to cruising altitude, and she waited. Near as he could tell, she was hovering, like some owls could do.

"Tarnaske?" Aster whispered. "How're you flying?"

"You talking English now, kiddo?" he asked.

"You're talking Valley." A snuffle, and then a cold nose nudged against his jaw. "You're real? You're flying. You never did that before."

"I've got my staff with me." Jack tightened his grip on Aster. "I can fly with the staff. And I promise you, I'm real."

"You got dead, though. That piece of _sketi_ killed you."

"Don't swear," Jack said. Not that he knew what the word meant, but he could guess. "It was a faked death, we'll talk about it later. I'm so sorry, kiddo."

Aster snuffled again, and didn't reply. After a few minutes, Jack realized the kid had actually dozed off.

The flight to the Workshop was nothing like the frenzied rush to get to- England, hadn't Tooth said? Either way, they flew at quarter-speed. Aster woke up when they hit the cold air of the Arctic, though he didn't say much.

At least, not until the Workshop came into view. "Is that where you live?" he asked. "Where you make winter?"

Jack glanced down at the kid. He knew, just knew, Tooth was choking down a laugh. "I live there sometimes, but mostly I live in a certain Bunny's Warren."

"That's not a warren," Aster said. "A warren's got lots of burrows."

"Yeah," Jack said, and thought about the side caverns. He'd ended up picking the one that felt the least- like it wasn't waiting for something. He tightened his grip on Aster.

Tooth landed on a large balcony, a recent add-on to the Workshop what with three flyers visiting regularly. Sure, Sandy and Jack could typically get in through the windows, and Jack knew a couple yeti had a betting pool over something to do with him, windows, and whether or not he would use them- but Tooth couldn't, anymore. So North had added the balcony for her, so she didn't have to land at the front door and wait to be let in.

Tooth held the door for Jack, and Aster sighed when the warmth of the room washed over him. It was a sitting room, one of many. Not the one the Guardians normally used for their meetings, but a nice enough place, he supposed.

"I'll go talk to North. Wait in the usual room, alright?" Tooth hurried off down the hall before Jack could answer. Though, really, he was going to do exactly what she'd told him to, so.

They passed several of the older yeti in the hall- and yeah, Jack was still adjusting to about half the yeti being teenagers now- and Aster shrank against him. "Easy, kiddo," he murmured, and waved at Phil. "You should join the meeting too," he said.

Phil grumbled, and gestured at his clip board. Jack rolled his eyes. The head yeti huffed, and then held up five fingers.

"Fine, fine. If you're not in the room when North joins us, I'll drag you in by your feet."

Phil just flipped him off.

Jack half shut the door behind him, and sank down onto- and into- one of the overstuffed couches. "Alright, kiddo. You've got questions, I'm sure, but I'm going to give you a quick rundown. Okay? We're not on Gallifrey right now, we're on a planet called earth. And until sometime this morning, I'm guessing, you were an adult. There's a couple of guys that could turn you back into a kid again, and I guess one of them did." He settled the kid on his lap, and leaned the staff up against the couch arm. "You don't remember being an adult, do you?"

Aster shook his head, and sniffed. "No. T-Tarnaske? I- I was really an adult?"

"Swear to it," Jack said. "Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye if I lie."

"No!" Aster flung himself forward and wrapped his arms around Jack's neck, half strangling him. "No! You can't die! You did once and I kept _seeing_ it and I can't- you can't leave me again!"

So this was how it felt to get verbally punched in the heart. "I won't leave you again," Jack said. "I promise. Kiddo, easy, it's just a saying. I'm not leaving."

"G-good," Aster said, voice shaking. "I..."

"It's alright. I'm so sorry. I never meant to leave you."

The kid relaxed slowly. "Why did you?"

"I never meant to." Jack stroked along Aster's spine, and frowned. He shouldn't have been able to feel the bumps of the kid's spine, or the faint lines of his ribs. Food. Food was going to be a thing. And real soon, too. "Time travel was involved."

"Time-" Aster cut himself off, and pulled back. "Y-you said I was an adult. That I got turned back into a kid. Like that?"

"Sort of. Okay. Uh, how do I explain this?" Jack stood up, and waved at Aster. "You stay right there, there should be some... Hah! Pictures!"

North's elves had briefly gone camera crazy. Mixed in with the _astounding_ number of pictures of feet, floorboards, people's nostrils, butts, and thumbs were a few good candid photos of the Guardians. Most were, predictably, of North. The Cossack had laughed when he'd seen them. There were some of Jack and Bunny, or Bunny and Tooth, or all five of them together, though. He took those back to the couch.

"Here," he said, and held out the first picture. That one was Jack and Bunny. He couldn't even remember what was going on, exactly, but he was perched on his staff and Bunny was scowling at him. Jack thought he might've been mocking something, or it could've been a serious conversation he was trying to duck out of.

"That's... me?" Aster asked, and tapped Bunny's face. "I look so _angry_."

"It's all an act, kiddo," Jack assured him. "Here. This one." The picture showed Bunny laughing over something, Sandy's sand images blurred and indistinct in the picture. It was during one of their monthly gatherings, which tended to involve food, non-alcoholic drink, and lots of farfetched stories.

He showed Aster the rest of the pictures. Somewhere in there, North, Tooth, Sandy, and Phil arrived, but they kept quiet. Aster kept tracing the lines of Bunny's face- his adult face- and frowning.

"Are there any... just of him? Me, I mean?" he asked, when he'd finished looking through the photos.

Jack hesitated, and then pulled a photo out of his hoodie pocket. "Uh, this one," he said, frost curling over his cheeks. "Here."

Aster took it carefully, and blinked. Jack hadn't been able to resist taking a quick snapshot of Bunny cuddling with his staff, just before Easter. His arms were multicolored, as were his legs, and he had a few splotches on his shoulder and one ear. In sleep, he looked as innocent as the little kid did now, eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face.

"Oh," Aster said, and squinted. "That's your staff."

"Uh, yeah." Jack felt the frost covering his cheeks thicken. "Anyways. Enough pictures?"

"Yeah." Aster passed the photo back, and Jack tucked it away in his pocket. "Why am I so scrawny as an adult?"

Jack paused, then pulled the photo of Bunny back out. "This is scrawny?"

"I think so," Aster said, his ears falling back slightly. "Mother was taller and Father was more muscles."

"Muscular," Jack corrected absently. "Huh. Well, uh, I don't know."

Aster nodded, and looked away from Jack. He jumped, and pressed against Jack's side. "Tarnaske? Who're they?"

Jack grinned at the other Guardians. "Those are our friends, kiddo. He really doesn't remember anything," he told the others. "That's North, he's human like me. That's Tooth, she's a fairy. And that's Sandy, he's a former wishing star. And that's Phil, he's a yeti and the bossman around here."

Aster blinked, and nodded slowly. "O-okay. Hi."

"My friend." North moved slowly, and knelt down in front of the couch. "I am so sorry you do not remember us. But we will help you return to your full age and strength."

"Strength?" Aster's ears twitched forwards. "I'm strong as an adult?"

"Yes, мой юный друг. You are one of the greatest warriors I know."

Aster frowned. "Do I... have to be an adult again, though? I don't remember... Will I forget all this?"

"No way," Jack said. Tooth shook her head. "Kiddo, I'm going to hold this over your head for years. You got turned into a cuddle-sized, adorable, midget. I'm getting so many photos, you won't believe it!"

Aster looked at him in horror. "I'm not adorable! What's a midget?"

North snorted, and looked as innocent as possible when Jack glared at him. "Shall I get camera now?"

Jack pretended to consider it. "Nah," he decided. "We've got to figure out what was done to Aster, and if it's going to do anything weirder. Like make him any younger."

"I don't want to get younger!" Aster stood up, and clung to Jack's shoulder for balance. "I'm already too short!"

North and Tooth both chuckled. "Well, let's just take a look at the spell on you, then," Tooth said, and moved towards the couch. "Alright?"

"Okay," Aster said, and sat down at Jack's urging.

Later, North gave them a portal back to the Warren. Jack thought about the recliner, but carried Aster into the bedroom instead. The nest was just as comfortable, and was probably more familiar for the little guy.

"Tarnaske?" Aster whispered. Jack was surprised. He'd thought the kid was asleep.

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you take me with you? When you left."

"I wanted to," he admitted, and smoothed a hand over a bony shoulder. Yup, lots of food for breakfast tomorrow. "But... your older self came back to bring me back to this time."

"But why couldn't I have gone?"

"Your older self said no. I'm so sorry, kiddo." Jack pressed a kiss to Aster's forehead. "I wish I could've stayed with you, or brought you back with me. But history didn't go that way."

Aster sighed, and cuddled in close. Jack curled around him, eventually drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone overdosed on the cute yet? Yes, Aster is young again, and no, he doesn't remember anything of his adult life. (And yes. Jack took a picture of the first scene last chapter- it was too good to pass up.) 
> 
> The next chapter's going to be a bit delayed. I got bit by another story idea, but it looks like it'll be, at most, three chapters. I'll get it written and posted and be working on young Aster's POV before you know it!


	14. Interlude: From Chapter Thirteen, Dinner and Discussion (And Rules)

Jack piled Aster's plate high with the rice and potato casserole. "It's good," he promised. "And here, apple cider."

Aster eyed the food warily, but nodded. "I'll try it," he said, to the general amusement of everyone at the table. "How come you aren't eating?"

Ah, right, that. Jack scowled, unaware of just how much he resembled his father in that moment. "There's someone I need to talk to, kiddo. I think I know just who turned back your clock, and I kinda need to kick their butt."

"You're leaving?" Aster caught Jack's wrist, and then looked guiltily at the Guardians. "I mean..."

"It is all well, as the Americans say," North said. "You will not be long, Jack?"

His smile was more of a snarl. "I figured I'd have the wind bring Puck here. If Puck didn't do it, I'll send word to Thor and let _him_ deal with Loki."

Tooth raised one eyebrow at Jack's tone, which was mildly bloodthirsty, but nodded. "Puck is the most likely. We did find Aster in England."

Jack nodded, though to be honest, Loki might have done the spell in England to put the blame on Puck and get some breathing room- or possibly some even more convoluted plot. It was sometimes hard to tell with Loki. The guy was mad as a bag of cats, and Jack would've sworn on a stack of bibles that the chaos godling smelt of crazy. Fortunately it was a harmless kind, devoted to coming up with new pranks and spells, and not the kind of crazy that led to the end of the world.

"I'll only be an hour or two," he assured Aster. "And I'll just be outside. Think you can let me go now?"

Aster huffed, but let go of Jack's wrist. "Alright," he all but whispered.

"Good. Eat your dinner."

Jack half closed the dining room door behind him, and headed for the nearest window. There was a yeti nearby, who scrambled to open the window before Jack reached it.

"Thanks," he said, and jumped out into the open air.

The wind carried him over to an ice field, close enough to the Workshop that he could still see the lights, far enough away that he- and anyone he ended up talking to- would be invisible.

"Alright, wind," he said, and narrowed his eyes. "Bring me Puck, Guardian of England."

The wind roared around him. Jack planted his staff in front of him, and leaned on it while he waited.

It was a surprisingly short time before Puck's arrival. Jack straightened up; eyes narrowed, but otherwise didn't move until England's Guardian dropped down in front of him.

Then he punched Puck in the nose.

Jack was no heavyweight champion- or even a lightweight champion, for that matter- but Puck had even less fighting skill. Jack got the upper hand, quickly, abandoning his staff in favor of wrestling the Faerie trickster to the ground and then freezing him there.

"Alright," he said. " _What'd you do to Bunny_?"

Puck, incredibly, smirked. "Oh, that? Fun, isn't it?"

Jack tapped his broken nose. "No! No it's not! He doesn't remember anything, he's a kid, and I want to know how we're going to reverse it! Start talking!"

"You can't reverse it," Puck said. He all but pouted. "He must grow up all over- wait!"

Jack hesitated, fist still in the air. "What?"

Puck swore in what was likely the Pictish of his first believers. "He will grow up at an accelerated rate," he said. "Perhaps two or three times as fast as he would otherwise."

"And his memories?"

"Will return as he ages."

"Why on _earth_ did you turn him into a kid?" Jack stood up, and fetched his staff. "Don't _ever_ do this again, Puck. I'm serious. Because if you do, I'll... I'll set the other winter spirits on you, see if I don't!"

"My trick was not quite so bad as that," Puck muttered, and shook his head. "Oh, very well. I assume you and the rabbit are out of the war, for now?"

"For now," Jack agreed, and shattered the ice holding Puck down.

He remained where he was for several minutes after the Summer trickster had left. Aster would be a kid for... at least several years, possibly as much as a decade. At least it wasn't permanent, and there wouldn't be any lasting damage- but it was very tempting to drop another out of season blizzard on England!

Of course, last time he did that- well, Puck had been upset, and rightfully so. Some winter spirits were just plain nasty, and it had taken the three tricksters a lot of effort to keep them from hurting anyone.

**The Rules**  
A Sampling

1\. Anything goes- except the following.  
~Why is this even a rule? ~Loki  
~Because you're a maniac. ~Puck

8\. Loki is neither the pagan god nor goddess of fertility. As such, he will stop grabbing random people and screaming "do me".  
~This really isn't helping your reputation, especially after the horse thing. ~Puck  
~Horse thing? What horse thing? ~Jack  
~Never mind the horse thing! ~Loki

9\. We the undersigned are forbidden to see whether halflings or gnomes bounce higher.  
~Loki  
~Puck

~Uh, do I _want_ to know about this? ~Jack  
~No. ~Loki

11\. The expressive dance skill is not a substitute for language skills. The next person who makes it impossible to communicate without 'getting jiggy' will be keelhauled. I will find the proper boat. ~Puck  
~Loki, teach me this spell. ~Jack  
~Loki if you teach Jack this spell I will kill you dead. ~Puck  
~Eh, I lost it. ~Loki

15\. The last time I ended up dressed in a diaper, a bib, and a soother I was mistaken for cupid. This should not happen again. ~Loki  
~Loki, you're like- ninety. You did your phoenix "I have died and been reborn as a three month old" thing just last century. ~Jack  
~Yeah, you're in a diaper half the time anyways. I don't see why you'd complain. ~Puck  
~Oh, shut up you old geezers. ~Loki

19\. That thing with Italy? _Never_ being mentioned again. _Ever_. I know where you live! ~Jack  
~We- well, damn. Do you know where he lives? I don't know where he lives. ~Puck  
~No, this is very strange, but I'll be increasing the wards on my tower, thank you. ~Loki  
~Ah, the joys of being nomadic. ~Jack

20\. The undersigned cannot demand payment in electrum, backrubs or bubblewrap.  
~Loki  
~Puck  
~Jack

23\. Loki is no longer allowed to offer anyone babies.  
~But they're so cute and adorable! ~Loki  
~Yeah. But you'd be getting US pregnant! ~Puck  
~Not Jack. He's jailbait. ~Loki  
~Excuse me? I'm older than you are! ~Jack  
~You don't look it. ~Loki

30\. No one is allowed to conquer the earth with an army of flying monkeys. That is all. (Loki- put the mad scientist away and get rid of the monkey wings.)

35\. No more out of season blizzards in England.  
~If I say I'm sorry, will you give me my thumbs back? ~Jack

105\. If a member of the Prank War has a holiday, we are not allowed to interfere with that holiday in any way, shape, or form.  
~Damn right- and, reading over this list, you lot are all bloody mental. ~Aster

107\. No spiders.  
~In the Warren. To be honest, that was pretty freaky and did you have to use the really poisonous ones? ~Jack  
~They were pretty. ~Puck  
~Do that again and you'll find some 'pretty' snakes in _your_ home, Puck! ~Aster

119\. **_NEVER DE-AGE SOMEONE EVER AGAIN._** Loki, you may do that to yourself. _But not anyone else_. Thank you. ~Jack  
~... Someone's a bit cranky. ~Puck  
~Do you _want_ me to help the Ice Lord? ~Jack  
~Never again. Got it. ~Puck


	15. Arc Three: Second Childhood (age 13)

It was warm, and the surface beneath him was soft. Aster kept his eyes closed, because he was obviously asleep. And as long as he stayed asleep, as long as he kept his eyes closed, he wouldn't leave the wonderful, confusing dream where Tarnaske was alive and he was supposed to be an adult. The moment he woke up, he'd be back in the cadets' barracks, with nothing to look forward to but a scant breakfast and getting yelled at because he couldn't keep up with the older cadets.

They were fifteen! He was thirteen! How could he have kept up? Especially on rations that always left him hungry? Aster's throat grew tight, and he curled up a little under the dream blankets. Now he kept his eyes clenched shut to hold back tears.

"Hey, slug-a-bug, wake up! Morning's half over!"

Aster's eyes snapped open, both at the voice and how the cushy surface beneath him moved. What- who- where- He rolled over, and his eyes widened at a familiar, non-Pooka (human, he remembered, he'd been told that last night in the dream) face.

"Tarnaske?" he breathed, and his breath caught when Tarnaske grinned at him, bright and cheerful and not a bit of threat in the bared teeth.

"Yup. C'mon, kiddo, breakfast!"

Aster blinked, and then crawled out of bed. Yesterday had been a dream- hadn't it? From the moment he'd woken up, alone and frightened, in an unfamiliar field- to when Tarnaske and the bird-doe, Tooth, showed up- to the trip to the icy north and meeting all those strange people, seeing those strange pictures... It had all seemed so impossible. But- but it was morning now, and Tarnaske was still here, and he was wandering through a strange burrow.

He sat down at a large table, in a chair too big for him, and watched Tarnaske cook. He recognized some of the implements, at least after a few minutes of study, but everything had been designed differently from the burrows in Bunnymund village, or the training grounds. Even the plants were different, and there were a lot of plants. There was a box hung from the window, on the outside, filled with strange- but beautiful- flowers, and there was a rack over the window with a bunch of cut herbs, drying. There were pots of flowers on the countertops, and Aster decided they must have been herbs too, when Tarnaske pinched a couple leaves off one, chopped them up, and mixed the leaves into whatever she was making.

"I was going to let you sleep yourself out," Tarnaske said. "But if you slept any longer we'd be having lunch, not breakfast."

Aster nodded, not quite sure what Tarnaske meant, but- food. If this was a dream, he'd wake up crying. Not that would be strange for him. He'd woken up sobbing more than once, though he'd tried to keep it quiet.

It felt like no time at all before Tarnaske put a plate down in front of him, heaped with odd looking- but tasty smelling- food. "Here you go," she said. "Eat up."

Tarnaske had a plate too, with roughly the same amount of food. Aster bit his lower lip, and found the strange fork. At least this one was shaped for Pooka hands. The ones from the dinner last night hadn't been, though he'd managed.

The first bite seemed to explode in his mouth. Aster moaned in disbelief and pleasure. "That's good!"

"Eggs Benedict. I'll have to get creative later." Tarnaske bent her head and focused on eating. Aster did the same.

He finished the food in record time, and licked the delicious taste off his lips. Tarnaske offered him seconds, but he shook his head. His stomach actually felt tight, from overeating. It wasn't something that had happened recently. The last time... The last time had been the harvest celebration, his second year in Bunnymund village. That had been... a year ago, he realized. Ever since the harvest celebration, it seemed, he'd been on short rations.

Aster looked at Tarnaske from under his eyebrows. If this really, _truly_ wasn't a dream... she'd change that. Tarnaske had always made sure he'd gotten enough to eat, when she'd been taking care of him. He licked his lips again, and then ground his teeth together in a purr.

"Alright, kiddo," Tarnaske said, once she'd finished eating and moved their plates to what Aster realized was a sink. But what a sink! There was a pump attached to the rim, and a drain at the bottom, so there wasn't any need to carry in buckets of water, or empty it out with buckets later. "We can wash dishes later. Right now, I'm sure you've still got questions."

"This really isn't a dream?" Aster asked.

Tarnaske's face was odd, but Aster had learnt to read her expressions before. She was sad, now. "Not a dream. I _promise_ you."

It wasn't a dream. It really wasn't a dream.

"Whoa, whoa, what's all this?" Tarnaske caught him around the chest with one arm, laughing. "Keep bouncing around like that and you'll run into a wall or something."

Aster wiggled free, and jumped into Tarnaske's arms. Maybe bouncing around the room at speed had been a little over enthusiastic.

...No, not a bit. But hugs were better. "I'm happy!"

"Great!" Tarnaske carried him from the kitchen to a sitting room filled to the ceiling with books. "I love it when you're happy, kiddo."

"I'm happy right now," he assured her. He curled up in Tarnaske's lap when she sat down, and sighed with relief. He'd missed this, so much.

... Maybe he really _was_ supposed to be adult. Those pictures- that'd been an adult half-breed, and he'd had Aster's gray fur, and black markings, and green eyes, and even Aster's inheritance, the bracers and boomerangs. So yeah, he decided. He really was supposed to be adult, but- but this was like a second childhood, and this time it was _right_.

"Any more questions?" Tarnaske asked. She sounded amused, and looked it, too.

"A few," Aster admitted. He nuzzled under Tarnaske's chin, pleased when she only laughed, and didn't push him away. "How come everyone was calling you something else?"

"Jack?"

"Yeah." Aster frowned. "They were calling you 'boy'. I don't get it."

Tarnaske frowned, but not angrily. "My name's Jack, kiddo."

"Your parents named you 'boy'?" Who'd _do_ that?

"N-no, they named me Jack."

"But a jack's a boy!" Aster shook his head so hard his ears flopped around. "I'm a jack. You're a jill!"

"A- whoa. No." Tarnaske pinched the bridge of her nose. "Aster, you think I'm a female, don't you." It wasn't a question.

"A-aren't you?"

If Tarnaske wasn't female, what did that mean? Aster bit his lower lip, eyes wide and ears drooping.

"No. I'm a boy," Tarnaske said. She- _he_ \- put his hands on Aster's shoulders. "It doesn't change anything, kiddo. I'm still going to take care of you. I'm still going to be _here_ for you. The only difference is that getting kicked between the legs hurts."

Aster's eyes widened. Yeah, no joke. "So... So you're a jack-"

" _Named_ Jack."

"-buck, then. You're a buck... but you cook?" Like a doe?

"Hey, I like cooking. And hey, self-sufficiency."

Aster nodded, though he wasn't sure he understood. So Tarnaske- really named Jack, because apparently his parents hadn't any imagination- was a boy, but he wasn't any different. And if he'd always been a boy... Oh.

"So you didn't take care of me, before, because you'd lost your kits?"

Tarnaske paused at that, and got all scrunched in the face. It looked funny, but Aster didn't laugh. He didn't want to hurt Tarnaske's feelings.

"No," he finally said, "no kits. At least not until I found you."

Aster grinned, and snuggled in close again. He didn't know about other questions, but if any occurred to him, they'd have to wait. He wanted his hugs now.

* * *

"Tarnaske, should eggs... walk?" Aster squinted out the window.

"Huh? Oh, those ones, yeah. I know, weird, huh?" Tarnaske scratched at the fur between Aster's shoulder blades, and laughed. "Okay, how about I explain while cooking dinner."

Aster agreed, and once more took a seat on the too-big chair. Tarnaske bustled about, vanishing into what he said was the cellar, bringing out strange- yet somehow familiar- looking vegetables. While he worked, he talked.

"So here on Earth, kiddo, you, me- North, Tooth, and Sandy- and a whole bunch of other people can't be seen by the native species. Humans. We're magic, they're not. They can't see us, they can't hear us, they can't touch us, not unless they believe."

Aster shook his head. "I don't know much about magic," he offered.

"I don't know much more myself, although North's agreed to give me lessons." Tarnaske sighed. "I need them. I know a few things, but- well, never mind."

_Tarnaske_ needed lessons? Aster shook his head, but didn't say anything. "And the eggs?"

"That's your magic. Your adult self's magic." Tarnaske sighed. "So, one of the holidays humans celebrate is called Easter. And part of Easter are egg hunts. All those walking eggs, and a whole bunch more, get painted up, turn into chocolate, and then hidden all over the world for kids to find."

"Why?"

"Hope," Tarnaske said. "It's complicated, and North can probably explain how egg hunts and hope go together, but they do. You're the Easter Bunny, kid. You're the one that paints the eggs and sets them out for the children to find, and the children believe in you."

"So they can see me," Aster said. He sat up straight. "Tarnaske, I can't be the Easter Bunny! I don't know how!"

"Your adult self is the Easter Bunny, kiddo, and no worries. We'll all help you until you're grown up."

Well... Aster relaxed, a little. "I don't have to do this all now, do I?"

"Nope. Easter's just finished, which is why Puck got you with the de-aging spell." Tarnaske scowled, even as he bent to check the food in the oven. "Easter and Easter prep was not to be messed with, but, well, pranksters being what they are..."

Tarnaske pulled the food out of the oven, declared the 'casserole' was ready, and served them both. For the third time in a day, Aster was able to eat his fill. And it all tasted so good, too! He wondered just what Tarnaske could do with soups and stews, because in Bunnymund village and the training grounds they'd both been pretty plain.

After dinner Tarnaske washed the day's dishes, giving them to Aster to dry. At that point Aster was getting sleepy, not that he'd mention it. He curled up with Tarnaske in a strange chair that reclined, without falling over. Tarnaske talked to him, telling him stories about his adult self... And it all sounded so wonderful... A strong, proud warrior, kind to children and protective of those younger or not as able as he was...

Someone Tarnaske thought his parents would be proud off... And Tarnaske clearly liked his adult self...

He drifted off, not even noticing when Tarnaske stopped talking, or when they relocated from the strange chair to the nest.

If he dreamed, he didn't remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warrior training was not very fun for Aster in this 'verse. Imagine taking a thirteen year old- and chucking them in to army ranger training, with a side of THIS! IS! SPARTA! Yeah. Not fun.
> 
> So, this arc is going to cover the twenty years it'll take for Aster to get his age back, as well as his memories. Jack's chapters will cover more time, while Aster's will provide snapshots of what's going on, what he remembers, what he's thinking of all this as his memories come back...
> 
> And for anyone curious, Aster's age for each chapter, if it's not IN the chapter, can be found in the chapter title. If this sentence made sense...
> 
> Also, for anyone who's been reading it but didn't have a chance to see, Velveteen Pooka's third chapter is posted and the story is now complete.


	16. Arc Three: Second Childhood (age 13) (2)

Jack forced things into a routine as quickly as he could. Not much of one, admittedly, but- structure. It was a thing humans craved, even nomadic winter spirit former humans, and he suspected Pooka were probably the same. Mornings were spent surprisingly quiet, since it usually took Aster a couple hours at least to adjust to whatever new memories he'd gotten the night before. Jack knew the kid was editing what he shared, because some nights Aster woke himself up screaming, and- seriously, who did that to a kid? Who tried to make child soldiers?

Other than a few people Jack really, really wished he could hunt down and hurt _very badly_ , not even kill because death was just too kind for those _monsters_ , only they mostly hid out in tropical areas of the world and he had limits.

_Stupid_ limits.

Of course, after lunch, that was typically when Aster shook off the new memories, and was ready to have fun. Jack decided to start the kid on egg painting early, since the coming Easter would be... very interesting indeed. Most of their days were spent on the banks of the Color River, and usually ended with a multi-colored, alien rabbit.

After the first month, Jack admitted to himself that he'd been very selfish. He'd all but locked the two of them away in the Warren, refusing to share a pint-sized Bunnymund ("Eversong Aster of Bunnymund," he heard the kid correct him, even in his memory) with the others. Although he didn't think anyone could really blame him. Aster was an adorable child, and kind of clingy, but not in a strangling vine way. More in a "this kid has not had enough hugs in way too long" kind of way, since Aster always seemed vaguely surprised when Jack didn't push him away.

"Do you want to visit the Workshop tomorrow, kiddo?" Jack asked. He finished setting up the chessboard, a wooden one he'd found wedged behind a stack of books in Bunny's sitting room, and checked that the pieces had been put out in the right places. Well, they looked right. The short pawns were at the fronts, and the tall guys with the fancy hats were on the four back squares in the middle of the board, and the horses and castles bracketed the fancy hats. No missing pieces, nothing was upside down, Jack had white and Aster had black and no one had mixed up any pieces.

Aster scowled at the chessboard, or maybe at the question. "Why?"

"North would like to spend time with you."

And that suspicion just about broke his heart. "Why?" Aster asked again. "Why would he want to know me?"

Jack fiddled with his king piece- or maybe it was his queen. "Because he likes kids, and surprise, you're a kid? Or maybe because he's friends with your adult self, and wants all the blackmail? Possibly a combination, but mostly of the first part. He really does like kids, kiddo."

Aster looked doubtful, but shrugged. "I guess. What do these pieces do?"

Jack quickly ran Aster through the pawns- "they're the foot soldiers, and they march slowly, so you can only move them one space at a time. But if you can get a pawn all the way to this back row here, you can give them a field promotion to any other piece, and they can even change gender,"- the castles, "no turning power whatsoever, so straight lines only, and buildings can't jump,"- and stalled momentarily on the horses.

"But how do they move?" Aster asked.

"Good question." Jack accidentally frosted his horse when he tapped it. "Next question."

"But I want to know how they move!"

"I don't know, they can jump the pawns and move four squares in any direction so long as they don't bang into someone? Next question!"

Eventually they actually played a game, though it devolved into a good natured horse race around the board with the question of border taxes to be decided by the winning rider.

It made sense in context.

The very next day, Jack flew them through the tunnels to North's Workshop. Aster yelped when they popped out into waist high snow (for Jack) and very cold air, and did his best to climb into Jack's sweater pocket. As he was a bit too big, he wiggled under Jack's sweater instead, knocking Jack over and ripping one of the sweater side seams.

Aster apologized the entire five minutes it took to get to the Workshop's front door. Thankfully, North immediately set things- mostly- to right by saying he'd have the yeti whip Jack up a new sweater.

Jack sighed, and went with it. He had no idea why he needed a new sweater, when he could have just stitched up the tear, but... Whatever. It made Aster happy.

Phil took Jack's torn sweater, which left him in his old pants and his shirtsleeves, which- yes. It was the twenty-first century. He still didn't like wandering around half undressed where women could see. It was impolite, and he just _knew_ some of the yetis were female.

Of course, Aster was still very wary, and stayed close to Jack- until he saw his first elf.

Then things went swimmingly. In a train wreck sort of way.

Jack eventually took to the rafters to watch the chaos and sigh. At least North thought it was funny.

Although Jack didn't think the elves would ever recover, at least not until the paint washed off.

Strangely enough, Jack saw several of the yetis _helping_ Aster in his redecorating efforts, at the very least blocking the elves from running away and at several points picking up an escaped elf and returning it to Aster, and never mind the glitter or paint that dripped onto them.

North treated them to a late dinner, because by the time Aster had finished painting the elves (the elf that had fallen into the Color River two whole decades before was now the _tamest_ looking of the lot) it was very late.

North had then given Jack a whole sack of snow globes, since Bunny's tunnels only worked for him on _leaving_ the Warren, not returning. Until Aster remembered how to open the tunnels with his magic, it was easier to use the portals rather than flying back down to Australia every time they wanted to leave.

"And more if you ever need them."

"Thanks, North." Jack shrugged on his new sweater, and picked Aster up. The poor kid was half asleep. "Do you really want me to bring him back again?" he asked, half-laughing and looking around the increased chaos of the Workshop.

"Oh, Да! Perhaps next time the little one can help me paint toys."

Aster snuffled against Jack's shoulder, and cracked one eye open. "'d like that," he mumbled.

Jack smirked, and hitched the kid a little higher on his hip. "I'd better get this guy back. He needs a bath before bed."

" _No_ ," Aster whined. Jack remembered that he hadn't liked bathing in the river, way back when, and apparently had the same hate for washtubs and warm water. "Don't _wanna_ bath."

"You're covered in paint." And not the water soluble dyes from the Color River, which might've turned the kid rainbow but didn't dry into hard, painful looking clumps that might have to be cut out. "You're having a bath."

"Don'..." Aster yawned, and squeaked a little. "Don' wanna bath... Tarnaske..."

North chuckled, and threw a snow globe for Jack. "Go on," he said. "Sleep well."

In the end, of course, the clumps did need to be cut out. It left the kid looking a bit patchy about the arms, all the way up to the shoulders. Aster was quite put out about it for a week, before he decided to 'get Tarnaske back' by dumping a bucket of Color River dye on Jack's head.

Jack looked like a rainbow snow cone about the same length of time it took for Aster's fur to grow back.

They didn't stay in the Warren the entire time, of course. Now that Jack had the snow globes for a quick path back, he dragged them both out into the world to see Tooth, Sandy, and North on a fairly regular basis. He even took Aster over to Yellowstone to introduce him to the bobcats and their kittens.

That part went well. The bobcats weren't quite so disconcerted by a smaller Pooka than they had been of Aster's adult self, though they weren't about to let Aster touch them. The kittens were much more friendly, and Jack had to convince Aster that no, they couldn't take any of the kittens back to the Warren.

By midsummer, Jack decided to take a risk and introduce Aster to Jamie, or possibly Sophie. The kids were grown up now, but they still believed. And Sophie would get a kick out of little Aster.

Jack knew where Jamie lived, so he took the tunnels as close to Jamie's house as he could. The kid wasn't a kid anymore, had gone into something to do with computer design and had his own house, but he still lived in Burgess, just like all the rest of Jack's first believers.

They came out of the tunnel near Jack's lake, and Aster was immediately distracted from their initial destination.

"Tarnaske, this is your home?" Aster gaped at the lake, and then frowned. "But where do you live?"

"In the Burrow, with you." Jack ruffled the fur between the kid's ears. "C'mon, Jamie lives this way. We can walk."

"When I'm not a kid," Aster said. He walked after Jack, occasionally dropping down to all fours to run ahead, and then wait for Jack to catch up.

"Still in the Burrow with you."

Aster scrunched his face up in thought. "You mean... You're my adult self's doe?"

"Hey! I'm a guy!" Jack rolled his eyes. "C'mon kid, really. Not a girl. We've been over this."

"But you are, aren't you?" Aster persisted.

Jack urged him on down the path. "Don't worry about it right now, kid." And when Aster was adult again, he'd have to ask just what 'being someone's doe' meant. Because at the moment Jack could only figure it was some sort of weird relationship... thing. Like a Jedi Master and Padawan type thing.

Or maybe it was even stranger than that.

They reached the outskirts of Burgess without further event. Jack thought about it, then picked Aster up and took to the rooftops. The last thing the kid needed was to get walked through. Not that it hurt, physically at least, but it was gut wrenching and emotional and no. Just _no_.

Jack skipped and jumped across the streets. Aster squeaked every time he did, but Jack always landed solidly. The wind didn't even help much.

Jamie's house was closer to the town's largest park than the forest. And luckily, he was home. Cupcake was there, and for the first few minutes Jack and Aster were collared and all but forced to admire the shiny new engagement ring Jamie had gotten her. It wasn't a diamond, but was something called a 'dragons blood opal'. Much prettier, in Jack's opinion, and it hadn't cost an arm and a leg, either.

"I always got so annoyed at those people who said engagement rings have to cost three month's salary," Cupcake said, admiring her ring. "Why would I want a diamond? Everyone has a diamond. And this shows so much more _thought_."

Jack agreed. It was much safer than disagreeing.

"Who's this?" Jamie asked, looking at Aster.

"This is Aster." Jack nudged the kid forward. "Say hello."

"Hello," Aster parroted obediently. "What's engaged mean?"

Jamie grinned, and took Cupcake's hand. "It means we're going to get married. Have kids, stay together, that sort of thing."

"Oh." Aster nodded. "You're going to be her buck and she'll be your doe."

Jack choked. Fortunately no one noticed.

The visit went well, Jack thought, even though Aster didn't have a chance to meet Sophie. Jamie did take him aside briefly to ask for a better explanation, and then after he'd gotten over the surprise of the _Easter Bunny_ having been reduced to an innocent thirteen year old, laughed.

"There's no one better able to take care of kids than you, Jack. Good luck."

"Thanks." Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll need it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't have as much of the year summarized as I'd planned, so we'll have two 'times' next chapter with a bit of time skip- Aster's "first Christmas" and then the very first Easter.
> 
> On a completely unrelated note, have any of you read the last chapter of Velveteen Pooka? I'm starting to get a "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" vibe about it, because there's barely any reviews. Did I mess up THAT badly?


	17. Arc Three: Second Childhood (age 13) (3)

Aster yawned, and rubbed at his eyes with the back of one hand. Tarnaske had brought them to the place called Santa's Workshop very late last night. The big man, North, had given them a room to sleep in. The bed was very strange to someone used to sleeping in a nest, or- from his returning memories- on a pallet only a little better than the ground itself. It wasn't bad though, or uncomfortable, and Tarnaske had shared the bed with him.

He didn't like the memory that had come back while he'd slept, though. Sword fighting lessons. Yuck. He'd gotten cut up on the arms a bit from that, though whatever injuries he'd gotten apparently hadn't scarred. Or they weren't going to show up until they _were_ scars.

That part was strange. He still had difficulty believing he was supposed to be an adult, only then he'd remember stuff from training. Like the time he'd shocked Tarnaske by swearing after he'd dropped a book on his toes. Tarnaske had immediately sat him down and checked that he was okay, then given him a lecture fit to pin his ears back about how swearing was bad and why he shouldn't do it.

" _Sakradi_ ," Tarnaske mumbled. He looked just as tired as Aster did. "Do we really have to do this? The sun's not up yet. Why are we up?"

"Its dawn in North America," the bird-lady, Tooth, said. "Hello Aster. Did you sleep well?"

He nodded. "Yeah." Except for the memories. But that never affected how he _slept_ , only how he _felt_. "Did you?"

"Oh, very well, thank you. Sandy!" Tooth grinned at the sand-man, and her tail twitched. "Are you ready to open presents?"

Sandy gave two thumbs up, a gesture Aster had never seen among his people, but which Jack assured him was a positive sign. Sandy didn't talk, so he had to show everyone images or try to communicate through gestures. It was kind of fun trying to guess what he meant, although Aster did get frustrated some times.

Sometimes worse than just frustrated, he admitted to himself. He was discovering a temper, though it didn't seem to bother anyone.

"Once a grumpy bunny, always a grumpy bunny," Tarnaske had said about the last tantrum.

Aster twitched his ears in remembered embarrassment, and scrubbed at his eyes again. At least he woke up quickly, though he wasn't sure where that came from. It didn't get rid of the sleep dust in his eyes, though.

Sandy grinned at him, and shrugged. Oh, right. The sleep dust was _his_ fault.

Aster stuck his tongue out at the Sandman, and then gave Tarnaske his best innocent look when the Winter Smith looked down at him. "What?"

"Uh huh. Behave, kiddo."

"I _am_ behaving!"

North arrived before Tarnaske could reply. Aster decided to count that as a kind of win. Besides, it wasn't like he'd _done_ anything.

"Ah, good, we all are together and ready for presents!" North clapped his hands, and then waved his arms. "Come, this way to Tree Room!"

Tree room? Had he made a room out of a tree or- no, that couldn't be right...

Aster forgave himself for gawking when he entered the tree room. There were seven- no, eight- no, _ten_ trees- _more_ \- throughout the room, each one at least eight feet tall and most higher. They were all decorated, some with hardly anything hung on the branches, some so covered in sparkly things and lights that you couldn't really see the needles. One, in the center of the room, was the biggest and best decorated, in Aster's opinion. There were gold stars, and red, glittery balls, and blue birds, and white snowflakes, and gray... kangaroos?

"Huh?" he asked, and held up one of the kangaroos.

Tarnaske burst into laughter, and fell down on the floor.

"Oh!" Aster stomped one foot on the floor. "It's not funny!"

"Yes it is!" Tarnaske managed to get out, between gasps for breath and hoots of laughter.

"You sound like a monkey!" That's what the crazy lady, Sophie, told her brother, Jamie. She was kind of scary, and very grabby, but also really nice. And Sophie gave the best scratches behind the ear. She just, well, was very grabby.

"Oh, man, kiddo. C'mon, put that back, we'll do presents." Tarnaske sat up, grinning so wide his face had to hurt, and tear marks on his cheeks. "Wow. Really, North? Really? That's just awesome, man."

Aster huffed, but hung the kangaroo ornament back on the tree branch. And he sat next to Tarnaske. He was only a little upset, after all, and Tarnaske was cuddly in the _best_ way. His adult self _had_ to be Tarnaske's buck. Aster couldn't imagine any other reason for Tarnaske to act like this.

"How come my ornament's a kangaroo?" he asked.

"Because you live in Australia," North said. "Now, presents!"

"What's an Australia?"

In answer, North gave him a box. It was covered in pretty wrapping paper, and tied up with a ribbon and bow. "Youngest opens first present."

Aster wrinkled his nose, but gave in. "Okay. What is it?"

"Open it and see," Tooth said.

"Just tear the paper off," Jack suggested, and Sandy nodded. "That's what I do."

"But that'll get it all wrecked." He tugged at the end of the ribbon, undoing the bow. It took a little longer to work the paper off without tearing it, but in the end he had it all in one piece, folded beside him. It was really very pretty. The box itself was boring, though, so he just tore in through the top before realizing it was a lid and he could lift it off.

He twitched his ears at the realization, and then pulled out his present. "Oh." It was a- a teddy bear, made out of a soft blue fabric, and embroidered with- were those snowflakes? "Oh!" Tarnaske's old sweater, the one he'd ripped!

"Oh, huh." Tarnaske grinned, and took the teddy bear from him. "My old sweater! Could you make the smile any creepier, North?"

North huffed, and Aster took the bear back. "I don't think it's creepy." Maybe a bit... enthusiastically smiling, like someone had forgotten how to stop stitching, but still. "It's nice."

"There, you see?" North gestured at Aster. "Little Bunny likes his gift, most important person to consider. Now, next youngest is Jack."

"Fine," Tarnaske said, and laughed when he opened his gift. It was a plush rabbit, made out of gray fuzzy stuff. "Very nice," he said, and held the rabbit up to Aster's bear. Aster grinned, and took the rabbit, and set them up between him and Tarnaske, cuddling.

"Aw..." Tooth whispered to Sandy. He only heard her because his ears were real good.

North gave Tooth a thing called a 'docking station' and an 'iPod', "Already filled with music," he said. "I know you and your fairies listen in at certain concerts, so I took those artists and added them."

"Oh, North, thank you, it's wonderful!"

Sandy got a carved reindeer, with a little calf. Aster didn't recognize the wood, though that wasn't surprising. The little man seemed quite happy, smiling and hugging the carving very carefully to his chest.

Aster had helped Jack with his presents, because Jack remembered these people and he didn't, but he still wanted to give them something. So Tooth got a carefully preserved flower from Aster's gardens (even if he didn't remember planting the gardens), and Sandy got a collection of sparkly rocks, and North got an ice sculpture of the Workshop. Aster had painted it with paint from the Color River, which made the sculpture look a bit odd.

Then the others gave out their presents. Aster got a toothbrush and toothpaste, which... Was weird. He chewed tree branches to keep his teeth clean and short. What was he supposed to do with the brush? He thanked Tooth anyways, because she was nice, if a little obsessed. Besides, she gave everyone toothbrushes and toothpaste.

"She doesn't have a lot of time to pick out things," Tarnaske whispered.

Well, that made sense. She was apparently very busy.

Sandy gave everyone seashells set up in different ways. North got a wind chime made out of them, and Tooth got what Tarnaske called an 'oriental sand garden in miniature' with the shells in place of the rocks. Tarnaske got a bucket, and he started chuckling in a way even Aster found a little freaky. Aster got a decorative wall thing made out of sea shells and a hard stuff that looked like sand, but felt more like cement.

He supposed Sandy didn't have a lot of time to pick out things either, but they _were_ pretty shells.

Tarnaske gave him a small box. "Tooth told me about it," he said. "I had to go rooting around to find it. I _really_ hope you stay okay with that idea..."

Aster frowned at him, and opened the box. "Oh! My snowflake!" He pulled it out, and stared. He'd gone looking, and found it in a large bandolier. He'd had that bandolier when he'd first woken up in that field, he'd remembered, but he hadn't noticed it since it'd fallen off right away. Tarnaske must've gone back and found it. The snowflake had been in one of the pouches, broken into pieces, and Aster had hidden it away in a drawer in the bedroom. He'd thought about asking Tarnaske to fix it, but he never had.

Only now- Tarnaske _had_ fixed it, and strung it on a new chain. Aster swallowed, hard, and began fumbling with the clasp. Tarnaske took over, and put it on around his neck.

"As you get bigger, we can switch the chain out," Tarnaske said. "And I'll make sure it doesn't ever break again."

Aster nodded, and held onto his snowflake with both hands.

* * *

"Tarnaske? Can you tell me what the groundhog does, and what Easter's about?"

"Huh? Oh, sure. Well, your part in Easter's pretty simple-"

"I know, the eggs. And you said the Yeti would help?"

"Yup. But I guess you want to know the start of it all."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Hop up. So, once upon a time, there was this guy. He was pretty important, pretty powerful, and was leading a religious change that would eventually become Christianity. He died, but he didn't stay dead. These days, every year around Groundhog Day, he looks outside his tomb, and if he sees his shadow he dooms the world to six more weeks of winter. The Groundhog thinks he's the one making the decision, but he's just a messenger."

"Oh. Because the Groundhog said spring would come early and said you wouldn't like that. Does it hurt, when spring comes early?"

"Nope. Warmer weather doesn't actually hurt me, kiddo. I just can't ice things over as well. And anyways, just because he says stuff like that doesn't mean it's true. Remind me to tell you about twenty-thirteen sometime. I had a lawyer guy trying to take the Groundhog to court, and a newspaper saying he should be beheaded."

* * *

The Warren had gone _insane_. Aster could only compare it to the combat drills he kept getting memories of, because everything was chaotic.

The yeti had come in force to help paint eggs. North was ordering them around, although Jack insisted Aster got the final word on everything. Easier for _him_ to say; Aster couldn't help but worry he'd make the wrong decision and wreck the holiday for _everyone_. Jack insisted he do what felt right, but at the moment, what felt right involved hiding under the couch and not coming out.

But he couldn't do that, even if everything was a blur of motion. He had to be the final voice on everything; from egg colors to the patterns they were painted. He even did a couple of the eggs himself, though they didn't look very good. He managed to get finger prints everywhere.

Today was the very last day, the day the eggs would be guided out into the tunnels and then hidden away. Everyone was in the Warren; not just the yeti and North, but Tooth and Sandy, too.

And Jack. Aster had finally given in and started calling the Winter Smith by his 'proper' name, even if it did sound, to him, like he was calling Tarnaske 'boy' all the time. No one knew who he was talking about otherwise, though. It was simpler. Even if it felt very, very rude.

"How're you feeling, kiddo?" Jack asked, dropping down beside Aster. He must have been flying. It was a good thing Aster had gotten used to that.

"Okay. Kind of weird. There's a lot of eggs."

"Yup." Jack turned and looked out over the stages of preparation. "Hiding them's going to be fun."

Was it? Aster swallowed, and nodded. He felt very nervous. "What if I don't do a good job?"

"You'll do a great job." Jack crouched down, and placed one hand on Aster's shoulder. "You're going to do amazing. Okay? I believe in you, Aster."

Well, when Jack put it that way... Aster nodded, and forced his ears up and forward. Jack believed in him. He really _could_ do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, time is supposed to move in these chapters- well, next chapter Aster's going to be fifteen. Hormones. So. Much. Fun. (No, really. Except for Jack, he's going to do a lot of choking and bug eyes.)


	18. Arc Three: Second Childhood (age 14 to 18)

"Jack? I've got a problem."

Jack absolutely did not flinch, blanch, or recoil. He did take a deep, bracing breath and reminded himself that he was the adult here and as such he had to behave responsibly.

However much Aster wore at his self control.

"Yeah, kid?" he asked, and turned around.

Aster gave him the best pleading look the teenager could manage, one hand behind his back (probably fondling his own tail, Jack figured) and the other stroking up and down his stomach. His erection was prominent and all but demanded attention.

"It won't go down," Aster explained. "Think you could... help me with this?"

On his darkest, most cynical days, Jack suspected this was all karmic payback for three hundred years on the naughty list. Burst water pipes? Attractive Pooka teenager hanging around. Icy roads? Said teenage Pooka got a crush on him. Blizzards that may have ended up with a death toll, completely against Jack's own intentions or desire? Have that teenage Pooka be absolutely shameless about said crush and chase Jack around like- like a real rabbit in heat!

"I don't think that'd be a good idea, kid," Jack said, and then fled. It wasn't even a strategic retreat, just fleeing to the tunnels and from there to Antarctica.

Sometimes even a winter spirit needed to take a cold bath, and you couldn't get much colder than a glacial pool.

He dove in fully clothed, and came up shivering. If someone had told him a dozen years ago that his chief antagonist, one Easter Bunny (AKA Bunny, AKA Kangaroo, AKA Cottontail, AKA that guy with the boomerangs and cranky expression) was going to end up probably his best friend, he'd have laughed himself sick. If he'd also been told that Bunny was going to be de-aged and then go through puberty again fixated on Jack, well... He'd have figured out a way to call the men in the nice, white coats. Because clearly? Whoever believed _that_ was insane.

It'd started innocently enough. Aster had turned fourteen not long after Easter, and then the growth spurt had started. It'd been a challenge to keep him fed, because like all teenage boys he'd had two hollow legs and two states of being: full and starving hungry. Which had been expected. Jack had kind of boggled a bit at how the kid had gone from three foot something to five-foot-three. And the kid had insisted on snuggling _on_ Jack's lap, because apparently cutting off circulation in someone's legs was a sign of affection.

Only then Aster had turned fifteen.

Jack had been caught by surprise one morning. The kid had walked up to him, something different about his expression. He'd cuddled up close, the way he typically did. Jack figured that was two parts being starved for friendly touch, three parts reassurance that the things he'd remembered had happened a long time ago.

He didn't remember what he'd said. But the kid had rubbed his forehead against Jack's shoulder, and then- yeah, fifteen year olds didn't know how to look seductive. Jack hadn't figured it out until Aster had started talking.

"I got an interesting memory last night," Aster had said.

"Was it any good?"

"Mmhm. I used to have fantasies about you." Aster had stroked Jack's chest. "I really didn't remember you properly. Want to help me make better ones?"

"Whoa, hold up there!" Jack had detangled himself from Aster, and backed up several steps. "Aster, no. You're a kid. You're too young."

"You're young."

"Not as young as you." Jack remembered he'd been panicked and mentally flailing a bit. Because Aster- well, he was a pretty teenager, but still, fifteen was way, way too young for that, and- just _no_ , okay? That was discounting entirely issues of consent and what he'd do to Jack once he was an adult and had all his memories back.

"If I were older?" Aster asked, looking disappointed.

Jack hadn't known how to answer that, because... well, he hadn't known how to answer that. Aster as a teenager was pretty, in a half-grown, angular way. As an adult? Not that Jack had a thing for fur or anything, but- well, he hadn't been in the mood for any soul searching or dragging his emotions kicking and screaming out of the closet he normally kept them in.

"Kid, this really isn't appropriate," he'd settled for saying. "You're a teenager, and you don't have your memories all back right now. We'll talk about it when you're older." If Aster still wanted to.

It'd been the wrong answer; he'd known that the instant Aster got that bullheaded expression that said, clear as anything, that he wasn't going to give up.

And he hadn't. Every morning he'd insist on talking about the fantasies he'd remembered. Jack had eventually looked up rabbit mating rituals (and gotten caught by Sandy- _that_ had been an embarrassing conversation) just to figure out what all the circling and sniffing and chin-rubbing-thing was about.

It'd gotten worse as Aster turned sixteen. He still talked about the fantasies, but now when he woke up he didn't bother rolling away to hide his morning erection. Jack woke up, three days out of four, because Aster was rubbing up against him.

He stopped sleeping in because of that.

Of course, things escalated. Aster had originally kept quiet when the other Guardians were around, which had led to Jack practically moving into North's Workshop every couple of weeks. But then Aster had decided being subtle around the Guardians was okay.

For the record? Aster had _never_ known what 'subtle' meant, unless it was painting.

Aster told Tooth off for sighing over Jack's teeth, with the justification of 'you're my adult self's doe!' Jack... hadn't responded very well to that, because he'd somehow ended up focusing on how he was a male, not a female, and therefore couldn't be a doe.

He still didn't know why he never argued about not being Aster's, period.

Aster also told off North for trying to promote the "Santa Claus works with Jack Frost to ensure white Christmases" thing, and Sandy for staring at Jack too long.

The only relief, so to speak, came when the preparation for Easter started ramping up. Aster was old enough at that point that he insisted on doing most of the work himself, though Jack and a couple yeti still helped out. Once Easter was over, though, it was right back to Aster chasing Jack around with propositions and the occasional shameless display of personal bits.

Jack had spent _that_ year clinging to his self control with his fingernails, because _cheese 'n rice_. Aster had been pretty at fifteen, pretty at sixteen, and had started sliding to handsome at seventeen. His shoulders had gotten broad, and he was still growing, now taller than Jack, with oversized hands, feet, and ears promising his eventual size. And, as Aster was fond of commenting, big feet meant a big dick, and whoever had told him _that_ needed to die.

Because that sort of commentary just didn't help Jack's self control, it really didn't. Despite the whole drowning thing, he wasn't _dead_. At least not anymore. But even a corpse wouldn't have been able to ignore everything Aster did and said, and Jack was stuck as a permanently young man with a healthy libido.

The summer after Aster turned seventeen, Jack started taking his ice pool baths. It helped, temporarily.

In early winter, though, things changed. Jack had sat bolt upright in bed, waking Aster up, and then had gone charging out of the Warren to Pennsylvania.

He'd gone full speed to a half-frozen lake, and found Jamie and Claude trapped in a car, unconscious and with the water halfway up their chests. Jack had torn the doors off the car, literally, and pulled them both up to the highway.

Jamie had woken up long enough to call nine-one-one, before passing out again. Jack had done what he could for their injuries, but had never been so relieved to see ambulances and police cars.

Jamie went in for three hours of surgery, and Jack kept the waiting gang company. Jamie was pronounced stable, while Claude remained under the knife another four hours. Even then, he was kept in the ICU on twenty-four hour watch, which... hadn't been reassuring.

Jamie had made as full a recovery as was possible for a man who'd almost lost both legs. Claude lived a week, before passing away from a combination of internal trauma and an infection that had hit his system hard. Jack took consolation from the fact that Claude had been awake and able to say goodbye to his friends and family, but it was small comfort when he stood beside Claude's widow, and his twin brother Caleb, at the funeral.

The Guardians, and the surviving members of Jack's first believers, had deduced that it was the snowflake necklace he'd given Jamie that had alerted Jack to the danger. He'd promptly made more snowflakes, one for each of the former children and their spouses.

Jack had blamed himself for not getting to Claude quickly enough, though everyone he'd admitted his feelings to had assured him he'd done all he could.

"Jack, you didn't know until I hit the water," Jamie had said. He'd paused in the middle of packing; he and Cupcake had bought a house better for his new wheelchair, and were moving. "You got there as fast as you could. If you hadn't, by the time anyone knew something was wrong we would've drowned."

Jack had shuddered, reminded of his own death, however brief it had been.

"Claude didn't blame you- in fact, if you'd care to remember, he'd thanked you! Yes, it sucks he'd died- but you helped get him to the hospital. Blame insanely powerful bacteria, because _that's_ what killed him."

The talks had helped. Aster hadn't once propositioned Jack, or asked for help with an erection, or talked about fantasies the entire winter. In fact, he'd gone back to the quiet, snuggly kid who hadn't tried Jack's patience, libido, and self control.

Until after Easter. At that point- well, Jack missed Claude, and he'd always regret the man's death, but Jack was naturally an upbeat guy, and you could only mourn for so long. And he'd seen so many humans come and go by this point, that once he'd gotten the first rush of pain and grief out, he... he didn't 'get over it' but he moved on. He could only compare it to how he'd gotten used to losing his pets every decade or so. Animals lived much shorter lives than humans, after all.

Aster started chasing him again, trying to start with subtle- which, again, he _didn't know how to do_ \- and ramping up into extremely obvious.

Like just now. Jack sighed, and rested his chin on his folded arms. What was he going to do with Aster? Sex was out of the question, because- because of reasons, damn it.

Although, if Aster was adult, and had his adult memories... Jack probably wouldn't have said no.

Aster was damn attractive, alien features or no. Jack still didn't have a thing for fur- at least, not a sexual thing for fur, though he did like the texture so long as it was part of a living animal and not, say, a dead skin or something. But Aster's fur was... very warm, and soft, and followed the contours of his muscles just enough to hint at the sleek lines, without being obscene. And his eyes, those were enthralling, a shade he normally saw only in plants and paint. And as an adult he'd been one of those guys Cupcake and Pippa would have called 'sensitive badass', capable of kicking ass one minute, then turning around and painting the most amazing things on one of his eggs, or cuddling with a small child, or- well, his personality was just as impressive as his body, that was all Jack was going to say on the matter.

He didn't know if it was love. Admiration, sure, and lust- a whole heap of lust thanks to Aster's younger self's antics.

But Aster, as an adult, wasn't interested in Jack. His younger self had fixated on Jack because of a combination of teenage hormones and brief memories of fantasies. Aster certainly wasn't a virgin. Well, maybe he currently was physically, in the most technical of senses, but he'd admitted that he had memories of experimenting with a few of the other Ranger cadets his age. Which... kind of hurt Jack's brain, because the de-aging thing just made everything complicated.

If he saw Puck again this century, he was breaking the Summer Trickster's _nose_.

Jack hoisted himself out of the pool. It was time to go back. He'd just have to remember that Aster was operating on a lack of information and memories, was too damn young, and was going to get the rest of his memories back and be plenty angry if Jack took advantage of the situation.

It was a real good thing he was a spirit of cold, though. If he hadn't been, his body would have reacted to Aster's displays long before this, and if the Pooka teenager was bad now... How much worse would he be if he knew Jack was interested right back?

He hunched his shoulders at the thought. No, he'd just keep chilling his own blood, thank you very much, and keep Aster from knowing just how much he wanted what was being offered.

But then, his three hundred years alone... he'd been offered plenty that he'd wanted, but had been wrong. This was no different than turning down the then-current Snow Queen, or telling the then-current General Winter no alliance.

At least he still had his friends. It was a somewhat cold comfort, but he was used to those too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack has additional reasons for turning Aster down, too. Not that he's sharing them, because complicated and he's not discussing a potential relationship until his friend has all his memories back (and maybe shows an interest as an adult, because otherwise that's just awkward.)
> 
> (Yeah. We'll see how well that works out for everyone.)
> 
> Next chapter- Pitch makes an appearance... and then really wishes he hadn't.


	19. Arc Three: Second Childhood (age 18)

Aster skipped a stone across Jack's lake, and counted the bounces. Four. Not bad. Not his best, but not bad. And since he wasn't really thinking about the stones, he'd accept the average showing.

It was strange, but the last place Jack would be was at his lake, at least right now. It was summer in North America, and Jack did his best to avoid summer. He'd visit his friend Summerscales and his pets in Yellowknife, but most of his time was otherwise occupied elsewhere. Like the North Pole, or Tooth's Palace over in India.

_Not_ the Warren.

_Frustrating_. In _so_ many ways.

Aster huffed, and picked up another stone. He flipped it out into the water, not even trying for any skips. It made a satisfying plop.

On the one hand, Jack's reticence to have sex with him was astonishing, and rather touching. Jack's loyalty to Aster's adult self was... _What_ had he done to deserve _that_? Something impressive, he hoped. Something worthy of Jack himself. On the other hand, though, Jack's reticence was incredibly frustrating! Aster was still himself, after all, just younger! It wasn't like it'd be cheating! And Jack _had_ to be interested, he kept running off when Aster brought the subject up.

Was it him? Aster sagged a little at the thought. He didn't _think_ Jack was interested in does- he might've been a buck, but he acted a lot more like a doe, what with the cooking and his care for children and all. Aster knew things were different for humans, but with Pooka, well, the does were the ones that cooked and cleaned and watched after the kits, while the bucks did whatever repair-work was required, the planting and harvesting, and didn't have much to do with the kits until they were weaned.

He wondered if his adult self changed into a doe for Jack. Maybe that's what he should do. Make himself look soft and sweet looking, like Jack probably preferred.

He could do it, too. Shape shifting wasn't too hard, with practice, and making himself female wouldn't be that big of a change. He just... didn't really want to. He liked being a buck. He had his memories of cadet training, learning shape shifting, and- he could do it, he knew he could, but he didn't like it. He didn't like changing _any_ part of himself.

Especially, Aster admitted to himself, his gender.

He threw another rock into the lake, and adjusted his bracers. He was finally big enough to wear them, though they were still a little loose. And the less said about how his bandolier hung off him, the better. At least he could wear it. The bandolier was better than a coat, since it didn't rub his fur the wrong way and carried more than could fit in coat pockets. He had egg-shaped grenades, rope, his boomerangs, and a few other odds and ends, including water and a small medical kit.

 He'd thought looking more like his adult self would help- but it hadn't. If anything, it had only made Jack twitchier.

"It's not fair," he mumbled.

"What's not fair?"

Aster spun around, dropping into a balanced crouch. He'd been alone just a few minutes ago, and he didn't recognize the voice.

A man stood in the shadows, leaning up against one large tree trunk. Aster didn't recognize him, but that wasn't surprising. The man had to be a spirit, though, because his skin was gray, his eyes were _yellow_ , and his feet were apparently invisible. That, and only spirits had fashion sense _that_ questionable.

"Who're you?" He narrowed his eyes.

"I?" the strange man pressed one hand to his chest. "I am known as Pitch Black, the Nightmare King."

Jack had told Aster about Pitch Black. "Oh. The bloody fuckwit what killed my species. I hope your ears turn into arseholes and shit on your shoulders!"

Australian was _really good_ for cussing someone out.

Pitch Black actually blinked and stepped back, before he scowled. "Oh, and here I was going to be _nice_."

Yeah. Nice. Right. "Ah, go fuck a duck."

The Nightmare King snarled, and- where the dickens had he hidden a _scythe_? It was huge!

"Compensating for something?" he asked, and ducked. Then jumped over the return swing, so he was in close and Pitch Black couldn't hit him with the blade. The pole was still a problem, since getting clocked in the head with it would hurt, but better than being sliced up.

"Hold _still_ you miserable rabbit!"

"You're as sharp as a beachball and uglier than homemade sin!"

Pitch Black hissed, and dropped the scythe- which vanished into a cloud of black sand. Well, that explained where he'd gotten it from. The sand reformed into two long swords. Aster blinked, and then started dodging.

Did he have any knives? No. No knives. Just his rope, his boomerangs, and the grenades he hadn't practiced with yet.

And the Boogieman was _very_ good with those swords.

Aster blocked several blows with his bracers, and kept backing up. This... was not good. This was very not good.

He stumbled and fell back. Pitch Black stopped, his jagged teeth exposed in a horrible grin, and lifted the swords.

Aster smirked, jumped, and flipped over the Boogieman's head. The second his foot hit the ground, his other foot snapped out and got Pitch Black in the small of the back.

The arsehole went face first into a tree trunk, and didn't regain consciousness until after Aster had finished hogtying him with the rope.

"I don't think you'll underestimate me again," Aster said, and patted Pitch Black's cheek. The man snapped his teeth at Aster's fingers. "But that was actually rather amusing."

"You-!"

"Ah, belt up you bastard." Aster stood up straight, and folded his arms. Now what? He couldn't just head off to get Jack and the other Guardians and leave the Nightmare King tied up in the forest. What if a kid found him? No, he'd have to stay and keep an eye on the monster.

At least he had messengers available. He tapped open one of his tunnels, and waited. It didn't take too long before one of his eggs wandered into view. It was one of the small googies, not the large golems, but it didn't matter. Either would have been good for his purpose.

"Alright," Aster said, and picked the googie up. "You're going back through those tunnels and going to North." Did he- yes, he had a marker in one of his bandolier pockets. He quickly scrawled a message on the eggshell, a simple "Pitch in Burgess" to get North's attention. The egg apparently sulked at the lack of paint. "Do it fast and I'll turn you into a masterwork," he promised, and set the egg back down just inside the tunnel.

It immediately toddled off, and the tunnel closed up with a hibiscus flower marking where it'd been. Well, that was that. North would summon the others, and they'd all hurry down to Burgess. It'd still take the egg a while to get to the North Pole, though. At least half an hour, maybe a little more.

Well, at least he had something to distract himself with. He grinned at Pitch Black, who looked a little worried at the expression.

"You right there?" he asked, doing his best to look concerned. "You took one hell of a header into that tree. Makes your face look like it's been on fire and someone put it out with a Pick-Axe handle."

Pitch Black snarled, and strained against the ropes. He needn't have bothered; Aster had looked up rope tying back when he'd been seventeen and _extremely_ annoyed with Jack's running off. He'd only given up on the idea when he'd realized Jack could freeze the rope and then shatter it.

Maybe some other time, when he'd finally convinced Jack it was alright, there could be a few tie-me-up, tie-me-down games.

He blinked, and looked down at Pitch Black. Who was making choking sounds, and staring a bit south of Aster's face. He looked down. Oh. Well, this was an awkward time, wasn't it? At least it wasn't doing more than peeking out of his sheathe, though that was a bit more than he really wanted anyone not his mate to see.

"No, this isn't for _you_ ," he said. "It's for Jack."

"For-" Pitch Black made a face. "I see."

Right. No more thinking about fun games he could play with his mate. Although he really, really wanted to, because he just knew Jack would be all about fun in the nest. Jack was the Guardian of Fun, after all! Not all games were for children.

He drummed his fingers against his bicep, and walked away several steps while he got his libido under control. The last thing he wanted was to give a complete stranger a show. Hell, for that matter he wasn't too fond of his friends catching a view, either. Some things were best kept between mates, and so far it appeared as though Jack wasn't interested.

"I can feel your anxiety," Pitch Black hissed. "Smell it, _taste_ it... It tastes very good."

It was very tempting to call Pitch a pommy bastard, except that'd be insulting all of Britain. Although... Aster turned and glowered at the Nightmare King. "Well how'd you feel if your mate kept running off before you could have sex, huh?"

Yup, that was definitely a look of horror. Aster hid as much of his amusement as he could, and gestured madly with one hand. "It's not like it'd be cheating, I'm still myself even if I am younger. Jack just- his loyalty's wonderful, it really is, but I'm a teenager! I have needs!"

Pitch Black choked.

"Maybe I'm doing something wrong," he mused. "I mean, he's certainly seen that the old adage about big feet is true, but it's not as though I remember my adult self bedding him. Maybe he's fonder of arses..."

"I... _really_ do not need to hear this."

Aster smirked. "Ah, but you're a captive audience." Oh yeah, lots of horror there. It was really funny. "You don't have a say in the conversation at _all_."

Pitch Black recoiled against the tree he'd been propped against. "I thought you Guardians were against torture!"

"It's just a little talk, Pitches. What's the harm in that?"

* * *

The four Guardians stepped through the portal with weapons at the ready and scowls on their faces. Aster waved at them.

"Oh, you!" Pitch flung himself towards the four, as best he could what with being tied up. "Help, please! I'll do anything! Just please make him stop talking about-" he shuddered, "-that!"

North raised one bushy eyebrow, and pointed a saber at the Nightmare King. "Aster?"

"I don't know! We were just passing time with a chinwag." Aster folded his arms and did his best to look sulky, when what he really wanted to do was fall over laughing.

There were benefits to being a hormonal teenager, and one of them was the ability to talk about _theoretical_ sex until the cows came home, and a bit after. It'd been easy to natter on about the research he'd done into bondage and sex toys and how weird humans were about their libidos. Really, Aster was something of a prude, since most of his fellow cadets, back during his first adolescence, had had sex anywhere and everywhere and with just about everyone. There'd been a lot of experimentation Aster hadn't been interested in.

Actually talking about all that with- or rather _at_ \- Pitch Black had been difficult, but the man's horrified expression had spurred him on. So he'd ignored his unease and talked.

"Uh huh." Jack looked unimpressed. At the sound of his voice, Pitch actually flinched. Aster didn't know why; he'd barely mentioned Jack at all. "Right. Because we should believe you."

"You don't trust me?"

Jack rolled his eyes, and pointed his staff at Aster. The Pooka felt a jolt of longing, which he did his best to stifle. Not here, not in public. Maybe once they were in private, Jack would finally admit he was being silly about it all and they could _do things_.

"Come on you. You're too dangerous to leave out here alone."

"Oh!" Aster all but skipped over to Jack's side. "You're right, you should stay with me. It's safer."

Someone groaned. It might have been North, or it might have been Pitch Black.

"And we," Tooth said, "Will deal with him." She nodded at Pitch Black. "You two have fun!"

Aster smirked in reply, and took Jack's hand. His mate made a face- Jack was not fond of public displays of affection, he'd discovered a ways back- but didn't pull away. "Jack's the Guardian of Fun," he said, as innocently as he could. "How could we not?"

"Just... Tunnel, Bunny. Let's get you away from the nice, sane folk, okay?"

Well, since his mate asked... Aster tapped open the tunnel, and followed Jack through. Maybe he'd manage to convince Jack tonight, after dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Next chapter things are going to take a darker turn. Aster needs to remember the First Fearling War, and then the second and the fall of the Pooka. And of course, once he's physically mature (19) his memories will return faster and faster as his body gradually shifts back to normal adult self.
> 
> But, uh, for this chapter enjoy Pitch getting freaked out by a teenager talking about sex.


	20. Arc Three: Second Childhood (age 20)

Jack kind of wished Bunny would go back to the blatant seduction. That had been so much better than nightmares every night.

Only they weren't nightmares. They were memories.

"Hey," he whispered, and nudged Aster's shoulder. "C'mon, wake up."

The Pooka twitched, face twisted up into an expression of horror and despair. It matched the sounds he was making, quiet and animalistic and just- Jack wished he could go back in time and batter a few monsters to death is what he wanted to do.

They were past the First Fearling War now. Jack knew more about it than he'd ever wanted to, not that he'd ever tell Aster that. Aster- who looked exactly like his adult self, only for the moment sleep deprived and haunted- told Jack as much as he could on waking up. It seemed to help, though the twenty year old certainly wasn't the carefree, sex-starved maniac he'd been only two years before.

"C'mon," Jack whispered again, and stroked through the fur on Bunny's cheek. That seemed to do it. The Pooka shuddered once, opened his eyes, and flinched back. Jack kept his smile in place, though it was a lot sadder than his usual grins.

"You awake there, kid?" he asked.

Aster blinked several times. "Yeah," he said.

"Good. I'll go start the tea."

They had a routine now. Whenever Aster woke up, the first thing Jack prepared was a cup of tea. Some days, that was all Bunny could keep in his stomach, the images in his head were so bad. If Bunny could talk about what he remembered, he did. If he couldn't- well, Jack was there for him either way.

Except for immediately after Easter. He now knew why the adult Bunny, the one with all his memories, had insisted Jack stay away those two months out of the year.

He hadn't thought anything of it when Aster turned nineteen. After all, he'd stuck around all the years before. Their friendship- or whatever- would survive whatever exhausted surliness Bunny pulled out.

Only it wasn't an exhausted grumpy-pants Jack met just after Easter. Oh no. He'd thought Aster at seventeen had been sex obsessed? Hah! Apparently Pooka, like the earth rabbits they resembled, had a mating season.

Aster had acted completely stoned, masturbating out in the open where anyone could see him. And that just wasn't like him, Jack knew. Even at the kid's worst, he'd kept the most blatant stuff private, behind the Burrow walls. At least he'd taken Jack's stuttered refusal to join him philosophically; or as philosophically as a stoned, sex obsessed alien rabbit could, anyways.

But that was just two months out of the year, and apparently even during the mating season he'd been getting his memories back. He just hadn't _cared_.

And the memories were coming faster now. Jack figured it had everything to do with how old Bunny was, and the fact that he was physically mature. He'd only be 'adult' when his memories got all caught up.

Every time Aster slept, he got days, sometimes weeks' worth of memories. None of them were very nice.

Jack wished he could just take all the horror away from his friend, but he couldn't.

They were into the fall of the Golden Age now, and Jack figured by the time Aster's 'twenty-first' birthday rolled around, he'd have all his memories back. And just what would happen then, well...

Jack filled two mugs with the tea, brewed strong enough that if he _could_ grow a beard, he'd never need to shave again.

Aster stumbled in, and Jack gave him the first mug. He kept the second for himself.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

These were very bad memories, then. Jack reached across the table and took Bunny's hand. The lagomorph clutched at it with bruising force, and stared into his mug as if searching for the secrets of the universe.

Jack sipped at his already cooled tea. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when Bunny was back to being himself. Certainly the Pooka wouldn't be interested in picking up where his teenage self had left off. They'd be friends, very close friends after this, but- nothing beyond that.

It hurt, deep inside. Jack had thought only being walked through could cause that sort of pain, but apparently he was wrong. Apparently being in love with someone who wasn't, couldn't be interested, hurt just as badly.

Except... He too stared into his mug. There had to be _some_ attraction there. Certainly Aster's teenage self had been interested! That just... didn't go away, and at least Bunny would remember how he'd felt. So clearly the species thing wasn't as big an issue as it could have been. Jack just... He'd have to court Bunny. Properly.

Of course that meant getting himself established. Jack didn't have a home- other than the Warren- and didn't really want to make one. Besides, what would he do, ice palaces? Aster wasn't all that fond of uncontrolled cold, he'd admitted once- before the whole age regression thing- that it made all his old injuries ache. Which Jack understood. Even he had trouble sometimes when the temperature _really_ dropped.

So he wasn't about to build himself a home, but... Well, back in the colonies, when Jack had been growing up, a man wasn't really ready for courtship or marriage until he was established at his job. Once he had a home, and the job, then it was proper that he'd start making nice with his favored lady.

Jack only had a few believers. As a Guardian, his very _life_ was at risk if he lost any. If he was going to establish himself, he'd have to do something about that. And then...

He slanted a look up at Aster, eyes hidden by his hair and eyelashes. It wouldn't take too long to spread the belief in Jack Frost, now that he knew what to do. Once he had a good, solid belief base, he could get started on courting one Eversong Aster of Bunnymund, former sub-general of the Lunar Army.

Pity he couldn't introduce Bunny to his folks. He rather thought his parents would like Aster, and his sister would love the Pooka.

"It'll be okay," he said. "You lived through this once. At least this time you're not fighting."

Aster looked up, and managed a faint smile. "At least this time, I have you," he said.

Jack smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a short chapter, but I've made an executive decision. There's only going to be two more chapters after this- one last Aster POV, and then the final chapter. After that we're into "Only a Fool's Hope" which will take place in the twenty-second century (or 2100's, for those, like me, who kind of blink at that sort of thing).
> 
> Besides which, for such a short chapter, Jack made a very big decision.


	21. Arc Three: Second Childhood (age 21)

Aster sipped at his mug of tea, and considered what little he remembered of his most recent season. He thought he remembered Jack, but- no, that couldn't be right. It had to have been a fantasy. El-Ahrairah knew he'd not had any other kind of fantasy for... years.

He cringed at the memories. And not just because they were fur-crawlingly horrible, either. He had two sets of recollections, one where he grew up as a cadet and fought in two wars, resulting in the six-foot-one master of martial arts from before his bout of age regression. The other- well, he was still a master of martial arts, but he'd gained five inches and half the time he remembered to duck when walking through doorways. Half the time he didn't.

There was some remodeling work to be done on the Warren, preferably before the bruise on his forehead turned permanent.

He sighed, and looked out the window.

He'd also have to find a place he could put a guest room. Jack had asked just before the Easter proper had begun.

"You've got your memories back," Jack had said, eyes shadowed with- something. "And it'd be nice to frost the walls without possibly damaging the books or whatever."

What else could he do but agree? His instincts cried out against it- Jack was his mate, his doe, his other half, they should sleep together- but... at the same time... Jack _wasn't_ his mate. That was something he'd convinced himself of, based on Jack's care of him as a child and, at least a little bit, of his hero worship from before.

The sad thing was- it'd always been there, hadn't it? When he'd been a cadet, he'd gotten a reputation for being the Pooka version of a prude. There'd been a few tumbles here and there, but nothing serious. When his age-mates had been experimenting, sleeping with both genders, switching _their_ genders, taking multiple partners at a time, he'd refused to change so much as the color of a single whisker. While he'd tumbled both does and bucks, he'd not experimented over much. If the cadets had used modern, American slang, he would've been called 'vanilla' in his tastes.

Which wasn't quite wrong, really. His partners and prospective nest-mates had always been compared to his childhood memory of Tarnaske, and been found wanting. And of course, his second go round through puberty, he'd had his Tarnaske _right there_ \- and Jack had rebuffed him every time.

Aster huffed at himself. He wouldn't have minded if Jack had taken him up on the blatant offerings. It certainly would've been a better memory for losing his virginity than that drunken mess that'd happened after Cadet Khelifa's wake. And he was fairly certain Jack had been tempted, even though the human's body hadn't ever reacted. Aster would have known, he'd been watching and testing Jack's scent almost desperately, searching for the faintest hint of arousal for encouragement.

Jack's refusal had been frustrating, was still frustrating, and yet at the same time- touching. Respectful. Jack hadn't ever crushed his hopes for something more- he'd said they'd talk when Aster had his memories back, was full grown.

Well, he had his memories back and had grown even taller than he'd started out. And Jack had asked for his own room. Aster didn't need or want the official 'I like you but only as a friend' talk, thank you very much. He hurt enough as it was.

He finished off his tea, and then just sat there staring at the bottom of the mug. Jack hadn't come back yet. Someone should do the dishes. That someone should really be him.

"Hey, Cottontail!"

Suddenly the dishes weren't that important. Aster left the mug on the table and hurried outside. He forgot, and caught the top of the doorway with his forehead. He promptly clapped one hand to the bruise, and squinted his eyes mostly shut against the reflexive tears of pain.

Strange how a bruise managed to hurt worse than any number of broken bones, near lethal gashes, and near pulping. Of course, the bruise was now; those other injuries were in the past. Memories could be very unreliable.

"Clonked your head again, huh?" Jack said, and grinned. It was easy and bright, and the exact same expression when talking with his grown-up believers. Aster might have hated seeing it just a little. He wasn't one of Jack's _kids_.

"Yes," he grumbled, and lowered his hand.

Jack hopped up to perch on his staff, and caught Aster's head with his hands. "Come here, then," he said, and breathed on Aster's forehead. It was chill, not so much as to actually hurt, enough to ease the pain. If he touched his fur, the hairs would be tipped with frost.

"Thanks, cobber."

"No probs. So, now that you're past your yearly Viagra addiction..."

Aster clenched his teeth together. "Its not- I don't want it!"

Jack tossed him a look over his shoulder, and headed for the door. "I know it's not. But c'mon, Fluffy. If you don't laugh about it, what's the point?"

Well... "It still isn't funny."

"I know. Watch your head."

Aster huffed, and ducked lower than he actually had to.

Jack had stopped in the kitchen, and was staring at the sink. Which might or might not have been full of dirty dishes Aster might or might not have put off washing.

Jack turned and looked at Aster. He didn't say anything, he didn't need to.

Then he turned and headed to the sitting room. Aster moved over to the sink and started filling it with water.

* * *

"Here," he said, and gave Jack a mug of hot chocolate. "It's the real stuff, not that powder nonsense you yanks are into."

"Watch it. There's been a real shift lately to getting rid of preservatives. Like, a _real_ shift." Jack blew on the drink, and then offered to do the same for Aster's mug. "Aren't you supposed to avoid this stuff?"

 "Doesn't that color red five stuff cause cancer?" Aster took his mug back. "I developed a tolerance. A few hundred years of making chocolate googies and all goes a long way." It still never tasted _quite_ right to him, something he attributed to Pooka tastes being somewhat different from human ones, but it was a soothing drink. It was almost a pity he hadn't tried chocolate when regressed back to childhood. It would've been interesting to know if his developed immunity had carried through.

"Just let me know if you feel funny." Jack sipped at his drink. "Sophie's getting married."

Aster put his mug down untouched. "She's what? Who?" And did they believe in him? Oh, they'd better... You couldn't properly threaten someone who couldn't hear you, after all.

"Remember Aiashi?"

Oh, _did_ he. The young sheila had quickly come to be one of his favorites, even if she was worse than Jack when it came to the pranks. Maybe that's why he'd taken to her as he had. "Didn't know Sophie was into other girls," he murmured, and picked up his mug again. Aiashi wasn't someone he'd have to threaten. She'd treat his favorite girl right.

"Apparently it surprised her too." Jack shrugged. "They're planning for next spring. Managed to convince them to later in spring, so you'd be... able to attend."

And not make a mess of things. "Yeah. Thanks."

"No probs. It's mostly in self defense, you know." Jack grinned. "If I had to dance with anyone else... Eeeesh. I have _bare feet_ , 'Roo. Least I know you won't step on my toes."

Jack wanted to dance with him? Aster promptly hid his expression by taking a large drink of his hot chocolate.

"Well," he said, and the world lurched.

Earthquake? He set his mug down, even as everything seemed to be tilting sideways.

"Aster?" Jack sounded far off. He had to get to Jack. He scrabbled at the table, fell over anyways. "Aster!"

His back hurt. His- and Jack, Jack was in trouble. He had to get to Jack, there was an- an-

The world tilted the other way, and everything went dark.

* * *

_mate_ and _protect_ and _"whoa no put me down hey grabby cut it out!"_

And running. Always the running. He was very good at running.

* * *

He felt dead. Dead was a very strange way to feel, really. Like all his bones had turned to powder and his muscles to liquid.

But if he was feeling that, he wasn't dead. You didn't feel dead if you were dead. So he was still alive.

Aster groaned. The gentle touches along the sides of his face didn't change any. Oh, so he could feel something other than pain.

And hear things, too. Whoever was touching him was singing. They started a new song, and their voice was pretty. Low and soft and it didn't hurt his ears, even though his own heartbeat sounded too loud and harsh.

Aster sighed, and relaxed. He recognized that song. His mother had sung it to him, and he'd taught Jack one sleepless night after remembering- after remembering.

"Jack?" he mumbled, the word sending red hot spikes stabbing through his brain.

"Hey." Oh, thank the Prince with a Thousand Enemies. Jack was whispering. "You're awake. Thought you'd sleep longer."

" _Hurts_." Not just his head, he realized. The muscles up and down his back and along his sides were all cramping.

"Ah. Here, then." Jack pressed something to his lips. A straw. The water was a touch bitter, but he was so thirsty he drank it without complaint.

It was only seconds later that he began to fall asleep. The water had been drugged, he realized. Probably for the best.

He woke up again, feeling less like dead and more like death warmed over. He'd had worse hangovers, though not many and they'd always been preceded by events that he shied away from thinking about even now. He smelt Jack, and realized his head was on someone's lap.

"Hey." Jack stroked his hand down Aster's ears, his fingers chill. "Awake again?"

"Yeah."

"Feeling any better?"

"Mm." Good enough to try opening his eyes, though it felt at first like his eyelashes were gummed shut. He managed, though, and blinked several times. He was looking at... jeans. Familiar jeans. Jack had asked for a pair of jeans to replace his three hundred year old leather pants, back before Aster's age regression. Those were Jack's jeans.

Which meant he was lying with his head in Jack's lap.

Trying to sit up wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. His back muscles promptly cramped and it was all he could do to keep from vomiting.

"Easy, easy! C'mon, relax." Jack rubbed at Aster's back, and slowly the muscles unlocked. The entire thing left him gasping in pain and some embarrassment. "Yeah, I think you were lying when you said you felt better. Here. Just water, no pain killers."

"Thanks." This time the water tasted sweet. "What happened?" He couldn't quite remember- had there been a fight, or... something?

He could _hear_ the grin in Jack's voice. "Apparently you overestimated your immunity to chocolate. Did you know you grow four more arms when you're on that stuff?" He sounded far too gleeful for the situation. "It was awesome, even if you were a bit handsy."

So that was why his back hurt so badly. "Handsy?"

"You decided to carry me." Fabric rustled. Jack probably shrugged. "I'm a skinny little- and you've got big hands and were using four of them. Only so many places you could hold on."

Which meant he'd groped Jack's ass and couldn't even _remember_ it.

Life just wasn't fair.

Aster sighed, and rubbed his cheek against- oh, that was Jack's _thigh_. However bad he felt, life had just started to look up.

"Anyways, the six arms lasted a few hours, but by that point you were out of the Warren and... I'm not sure where, actually. Some place with trees." He could imagine the smile on Jack's face; gleeful and restrained and honest. "The others had shown up, I guess Sandy or some of Tooth's fairies had gotten them. They did their best to corral you, which was pretty hilarious from where I was watching."

He just bet. Jack did like to see others (harmlessly) make fools out of themselves.

"I'll feel better soon," he offered. Once his back and sides had healed up from the trauma of growing four extra arms and the required extra muscle. Of course, once the pain stopped making him vaguely nauseous, the hunger would hit. The previous times he'd had this happen, he'd always eaten his own weight in food.

"That's good." Jack shifted, and began stroking through his cheek fur again. "I don't like seeing you in pain."

Aster smiled. Jack still cared for him. That was something.

He drifted for a while after that, too tired to think much, but all slept out. He woke up enough to drink some broth, carefully spooned to his mouth by Jack, and then returned to drifting.

It was very late when he 'woke up', though he hadn't actually been sleeping. Drowsing, maybe. Jack was asleep, he could tell from the Frostbite's breathing pattern. He was lying so that he could look out the window. He couldn't see past the window panes, though. As was normal for any room Jack stayed in for more than a few minutes, the glass was covered in the whorls and glitter of frost.

Really, the frost was quite beautiful. He just didn't like the _cold_ , or heavy snowfall. When you were as old and had as many injuries as he did, joints ached and scars tightened up and extreme changes in the weather had always given him headaches. But the slight chill of an early spring morning, with each blade of grass perfectly frosted- that was pretty. His hand was on Jack's knee; his grip tightened, the denim smooth to the thick pads of his fingers.

Jack did so much more than set blizzards and start snowball fights. He was a kind, bright young man, honorable, who loved children and had become the best friend Aster had ever had. He was... very loveable.

He blinked. He, Eversong Aster of Bunnymund, loved Jack Frost.

Well now. How about that?

Aster closed his eyes. Jack... Well, Jack didn't feel the same way. He was sure he'd have noticed. But... But that didn't mean Jack _couldn't_. It only meant that Aster needed to court Jack _properly_ , and not the way he'd done as a hormone addled teenager. Subtly, so that Jack came to see Aster not as a grown child he'd cared for, but as a prospective mate. And then...

It would take planning, and subtlety, and time. He'd have to be very careful about it. Jack gave his heart freely in friendship, and Aster had his trust, but love was several steps beyond that. And oh, Aster very much wanted Jack's love.

But not forced love, not coerced. No, he'd have to simply display himself at his best, and encourage that emotional intimacy with tact and a light touch. He rather thought, if Jack could be brought to see past the previous hormones, that the winter spirit would be amenable to seeing what could happen.

 Muscles he hadn't realized were tensed immediately relaxed. His plan would take years, perhaps several decades, if he went as slowly as he had to.

But it would be worth it, he decided, and rubbed his thumb against the inside of Jack's knee. It would be very much worth it.

Aster closed his eyes, and slept. He would begin his proper courtship of Jack tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. If the number of chapters is showing 21 of 22, it's correct. One last chapter- the epilogue- and then things will move on to the third and final story in the trilogy, **Only A Fool's Hope**. That should hopefully be shorter than Pacing and Walking were, but we'll see.
> 
> And after Fool's Hope- well, I hasssssss plansssssss, my precious... Yesssssss... (End poor Gollum impression now. Sheesh, I can't do the voice, why do I even bother?)


	22. Epilogue

The worst word in the English language might as well be 'kid'. He hated having to use it, and he hated more how it hurt Aster when he did.

But he wasn't ready yet! Jack glowered up at the clouds. People believed in him more- heck, he was pretty sure the entire East Coast thought there was, at the very least, _something_ out there. Probably had to do with that very late hurricane that mysteriously diverted before landfall. Instead of a hurricane, there'd been a light blizzard.

Jack had spent a week sleeping the effects off, but worth it. So very worth it.

He'd thought that'd be it. Twenty years of having to deliberately ignore Aster when the Pooka tried something new? It'd hurt, every time. A cold-resistant flower? _Thanks kid_. A trip out to explore some wild corner of the world? _That was great kid_. Deliberate ignorance of what the circling meant, as if he hadn't weathered Aster's second teenage-hood and very blunt courtship? How stupid did people think he _was_ , anyways?

Well, it worked. Much as he wished it hadn't. Aster's courtship remained very subdued, though touchingly persistent. Jack avoided the Warren as much as he could, with the entirely honest explanation that he was working on spreading his believer base and also keeping the kids from mixing him up with Wendigo again.

He still got the cold chills- yes, him, cold chills, he'd made all the jokes- remembering _that_ little fiasco.

Wendigo were cannibals, super-strong zombie-men that tore people apart in North American forests. He had no idea where the mix-up had come from, but was reasonably confident in blaming Pitch.

Then there was the Jokul Frosti mix up. The Norse Jotun hadn't been too pleased, but Jack had gotten it sorted out with a little help from Loki. (He'd also gotten duck feet from Loki, which kind of set off new problems, but at least he wasn't being mixed up with Mr. "First I strap you to board and then I break board in half over my knee and then I throw pieces into fire".)

Jokul was maybe kind of crazy.

Jack massaged his forehead. These days, well, most of his believers were in North America, which was what he'd expected. He also had a few in Russia, which he blamed North for. He also blamed North for the story that Jack Frost ensured white Christmases, but whatever. Sure, why not. And he kind of _did_.

He tapped his staff against a couple of trees, and scowled at the resulting patterns. Asters, all of them, and not a single fern to be seen. Sometimes his powers were more obvious than a teenaged Pooka.

"Soon," he promised himself. Things were starting to settle down, for which he had Jamie (may he rest in peace) and his other first believers to blame. Or thank. There'd been a movie; so really, he had no idea which was the appropriate reaction.

Although if he and Bunny had acted that way eighty years ago when he'd first become a Guardian, why the heck hadn't anyone locked them in a closet together or something? Sure, the movie had been marketed to kids, but the tension had been there for the adult audiences.

"Aster's reaction to the movie was funny," he'd murmured. It'd been based off the whole Easter of 1968 thing. Loosely, that was the thing, since Aster hadn't helped Jack hunt down the winter sprites that'd caused the storm. And there certainly hadn't been any flirting disguised as good natured arguing.

"Really should've thrown us in the closet," he mumbled. Of course the Guardians were doing that _now_ \- he had an almost intimate knowledge of the various storage closets at North's Workshop. And pretended oblivious each time.

He huffed, and tapped another tree. More asters. The only good part about the closets and being shoved into one with Aster was the chance to snuggle. He didn't quite dare let himself hug the Pooka too much or too often, because there was the possibility he'd just never let go. Or start rubbing a certain body part against Aster's thigh. There were limits to how much he could freeze his blood, after all.

"Frostbite!"

Jack froze, muttered a brief prayer for strength under his breath, and then turned around with a grin. "What're you doing up here? It's it too cold for your tender little toes?"

Aster smirked, and opened his mouth to reply- before he caught sight of the frosted trees. With the aster patterns. It diverted his attention for several minutes. Jack pretended not to notice, but he made a mental note. When he finally started courting Aster back? He'd have to figure out how to make an ice aster sculpture or something.

Maybe a bunch of them, one for every 'kid' he'd said over the years.

"Ah, thought I'd ask you out," Aster said, once he'd dragged his attention from the trees. "Going to be checking through the Amazon again," he said quickly. "Look for new plant species."

"They stopped logging?" About time. The one good thing about meat grown in a lab? Smaller farms, which meant the Amazon rain forests (and other forests) were finally growing back. Real cow was expensive, and farmers probably ran smaller herds on purpose. They could charge a higher price, since there was a more limited supply.

All of which meant Aster was a very happy bunny hunting for exotic plants and flowers.

"Whole new patch of ground coming back," Aster said, his eyes dancing. "So, you in?"

Jack hesitated. He really wanted to go. "Sorry, kid," he said. Aster's face fell. "I've got... Someone's got me mixed up with General Winter again. I've got to sort it out before he tries invading the Warren or something."

"Right, right. Maybe another time?"

"In a couple days," Jack promised. "And I'll make it up to you, promise."

Oh yeah, he decided, once he was flying away. He'd make it up to Aster. Rare flowers of all sorts, all living because what was the point otherwise? Exotic, romantic meals for just the two of them, with all the stops pulled. He didn't let it snow on Easter, but maybe if he let it snow very lightly in certain patterns, or if he frosted the grass in a heart shaped pattern? By the time the kids were out it would have all melted but Aster would've seen it...

Once he got this belief thing settled, once he sorted out whatever the deal was with the latest Snow Queen, he'd finally be able to take 'kid' out of his vocabulary and start returning Aster's affections.

He didn't think the courtship would take very long at all.

* * *

The patterns were of flowers. Specifically, asters.

Aster touched the trunk of one tree very carefully, and smiled faintly. Well, Jack didn't seem quite ready to consider a mate his own gender, but it looked like he was fonder of his roommate than Aster had first thought.

He'd helped Jack figure out how to make his frost do more than just ferns. Usually Jack kept it to starburst patterns or waves, though sometimes if he felt really mischievous he'd do baskets of kittens or the periodic table of the elements. The little maniac. Apparently there was some sort of 'internet meme' or something devoted to the 'Jack Frost Pictures'. At least according to Sophie's youngest, who was in her late thirties and a mum herself.

And these... He wondered if Jack had concentrated on the frost to make them come out flowers, or if it'd been accidental. Certainly the Frostbite had seemed heavy in thought when he'd first walked up.

Aster sighed, and looked away from the trees. It'd been a few decades, and sometimes it felt like he was taking two steps forward, and three steps back. If Jack hadn't been entirely worth it... But he was. There wasn't anyone else Aster would've spent so much time courting- several decades now- and there wasn't anyone else Aster would've considered for more than a casual fling.

He wasn't the type for casual flings.

It was only that- Jack was so focused on gaining believers. Aster had told him, Tooth had told him, North had told him, and even Sandy had tried, that spreading belief just happened. You couldn't force it, and the occasional odd turn _happened_. He could understand why Jack got upset over the Wendigo thing, or the General Winter thing, or all the other mixups- but surely those spirits were old enough to understand? Things would sort themselves out.

But no, Jack went out all the time, sometimes spending weeks out of the Warren during the winter, chatting with his current believers and working to gain more. He'd gotten a fairly sizable belief base in a short amount of time. The only one who'd been faster was North, and North had started out spreading the legend of a Bandit King who did impossible things. Aster was fairly certain that was cheating.

Although he might have just been prejudiced on Jack's behalf. Either or, really.

The movie had helped, and given them all a nice little bump. Pity Easter of '68 hadn't happened that way. Aster could've made friends with Jack much earlier.

Although- would that have meant that Tarnaske wouldn't travel back to the past to save and take care of him as a kit?

Thoughts like that made his head hurt. Almost as much as thinking about his previous treatment of Jack hurt.

It was all in the past, though. He'd apologized even before the age regression, and there was no point in dwelling on it now. He had to focus on the present, on the future, or he'd never get Jack as a real mate.

He honestly couldn't wait for the day when Jack's room became the spare bedroom, or better, the nursery. That'd be a lovely thing. Sure, two blokes couldn't have kits together- although human science was getting rather scary in that direction these days- but spirits had additional options.

Aster was a shape shifter. He wasn't fertile as a doe, but there were ways around that. Old gods and goddesses of fertility; some would only need asked, while others would require bribes or 'gifts'. Or they could ask a kindly sheila to be a surrogate, they way mortals did. Spirits had been doing that a lot longer than mortals, it wouldn't be too strange a question and what with magic and all, the sheila would carry a child of Jack and Aster's, none of her own genetics being involved.

So there were ways, and he'd already started cautiously feeling things out in that general direction.

Not that he thought that he and Jack should have kids straight off. Their relationship would have to start out quiet. Spirits didn't care about a bloke shacking up with a bloke or a sheila with a sheila or any combination thereof, but the older spirits did care about _age_.

Physically, Jack was something like fourteen or fifteen. Chronologically he'd been around for almost four hundred years now. Physical age didn't matter; North, for example, looked to be in his late fifties, but since he wasn't a thousand yet he sat with the other 'kids', while some child-spirits who'd been around longer than Tooth were counted as adults. The older the spirit, the more firmly they held to that thousand year mark.

Before Jack turned a thousand, Aster would be tarred and feathered for hooking up with him. Aster had worried about that a bit, before deciding it didn't matter. Jack was one heck of a powerhouse, a Guardian, and more emotionally mature than some of the so-called adults.

Besides that, Aster didn't much want to wait. He rather suspected Jack wouldn't care for waiting either, once they were together.

He'd resolved not to worry about it, but times like now, he couldn't help but wonder if Jack would be a thousand before he started thinking about Aster as something other than a friend...

Or kid brother.

Aster sighed, and tapped open a tunnel. If he didn't have a few plant samples from the rainforest when Jack got back to the Warren, there'd be questions. And he did want to explore.

It just wasn't as much fun without Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Pacing is now complete. In a few days the first chapter of Only a Fool's Hope will be up, which will be the last story of this trilogy. As you can see, silly boys are silly, but this IS supposed to be pre-slash- as in pre-relationship. Clearly it's actual slash since there's two boys (or Aster at least prefers the male pronoun) sighing over each other...
> 
> Anyways. Fool's Hope will involve politics, kidnapping, some strange information about winter spirits, and POSSIBLY something about Aster being an Avatar of Spring and Jack's staff, if I can figure out how to make it all fit together...


End file.
